


Don't Judge, But I Want You

by OreoCheesecake



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pegging, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OreoCheesecake/pseuds/OreoCheesecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra is sex-crazed, Bolin is her wingman, and Mako doesn't know it (yet). Aka the obligatory Makorra pegging fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Judge, But I Want You

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this was started all the way back in 2012 for the kinkmeme, when only 3 episodes of LOK had aired. I stopped updating when being in fandom got tough. But one day, I literally woke up and decided to finish it. Don't ask why it's so long. I don't know either. If you want to skip straight to the sex, simply ctrl+F "Part VI". Here you go! Warning: this fic is utterly ridiculous.

### PART I: SHAPES OF THINGS TO COME

She remembers the moment all-too clearly.

Surprisingly, it doesn't come to her while they're training. Maybe because she's long gotten used to Mako's distracting backbends and besides, she cares about winning the tournament, first and foremost. And even though she's always known that he looks extra good in a tanktop, it doesn't click then. She is too enamored by his firebending instead – how he gets the flames so concentrated in the center of his palm, she has no idea – and the precision of his hits as he bursts Bolin's discs, one by one.

They're sweaty and panting soon enough after every practice round, and much later on, Korra decides she misses the moments wherein she'd be staring at Mako's fire instead of his--

“GOTCHA!” Bolin yells, triumphant, pumping his fists in the air. He starts cackling madly while Mako leaps to his feet, yelling and cursing.

She's not sure at first, what's going on. Mako had just sat down to have breakfast with them when he suddenly stood up and started flailing, jumping madly. Korra doesn't think she's ever seen Mako look so panicked. It's kind of funny, actually, how wide his eyes are, but when he starts rapidly removing his scarf and unbuttoning his coat, the laughter dies on her lips and she feels an unexpected stirring at the pit of her stomach.

Mako's coat goes flying, and Korra discovers the reason: cricketrats are crawling all over his undershirt and pants. Soon, the pants come off, too, and Bolin is practically crying, rolling around on the floor. 

A few moments later and Mako is down to his underwear, flushed and angry as he sets Bolin's hair alight. The younger brother's shrieks of laughter quickly turn into those of dismay as he pats the flames on his hair out. “Do that again and next time you'll be hairless enough to join the air acolytes,” Mako threatens.

Korra's slack-jawed. Because Mako's words don't even register – she usually laughs at how the brothers rib each other all the time – but she's too taken in by Mako's embarrassment. His whole body flushes red, apparently, especially his face and chest. Korra's seen how thin his frame is several times before, pale and lithe, and for once, she wants to run her hands over it and maybe lick every inch--

Woah, woah, _woah_ , she stops herself, nearly falling over in her chair. Now it's her turn to be embarrassed, but when Mako catches her eye, he looks utterly humiliated to be in her presence. He averts his eyes completely, his blush deepening. 

Korra sees how he curls into himself slightly, hunching, probably because he's barely wearing anything in front of her. “If you'll e-excuse me,” he stutters (Mako doesn't stutter) and practically flees from the room. Korra doesn't hide her stare at his retreating form, her gaze shifting downward. His underwear's riding low on his hips and she thinks, God, Mako, when did you decide to grow a deliciously curvy ass, what the fuck.

She decides that she would do anything – _anything_ , to see Mako naked and flushing like that again.

\--

Practice is never the same after that. Because every curve of Mako is now more pronounced, each movement a possible sex position and each word, even when he says it monotonously while looking askance, something she imagines him trying to say as she pounds into him.

Korra knows this is slightly weird – that, based on what Jinora and Ikki talk about, girls should want to be swept off their feet, that they should wait and be waited for and there's no chasing involved.

But not many girls were raised isolated in a compound full of guards, and even their casual conversation is littered with f-bombs and graphic metaphors that Korra grew to not mind. And maybe that's why she wants to just throw Mako to the floor and ravage him like a komodo rhino would its prey, instead of wait for him to offer her firelilies or some shit.

No, the fact that Mako's both utterly passive and yet always in control of himself, might be what Korra is attracted to the most. Because she finds herself routinely fantasizing about what it would be like to seize control and have him look as he did after Bolin's prank. As long as he was under her, she thinks, assured and more than a little turned on.

A few days later, she buys a small Avatar Aang statue from the town's souvenir shop.

It's not because it's _Aang_ or anything – spirits, she hopes this isn't being blasphemous or whatever. She sends up a quiet prayer to him and hopes he doesn't mind – but mostly because the city thrives on tourism and therefore the Aang figurine is made up of good-quality metal, most likely to justify its exorbitant price. It's a mini-version of his statue out on Yue bay, him gripping a staff and his eyes staring off into the horizon. Korra stares at it, those blank eyes staring back at her, and she thinks somewhat grudgingly, _'Don't judge me, I have needs too,'_ as she experiments with bending and molding the metal.

It takes a lot of tries, but after a couple of hours later, no one could suspect the metal of having ever been in the shape of Aang. Korra has trouble getting it to look symmetrical at first, but soon is able to mold it into different lengths. She can feel her own body heating up as she watches her creation grow experimentally.

Mako, under her, panting and embarrassed and hers. Korra curls her fist and shifts in her seat, a slew of images passing through her brain that make her glad mindbending doesn't exist. This is crazy, she realizes, holding the thing in her hand. The most they say to each other outside training is 'pass the rice' and now she can't stop thinking about fucking him into oblivion.

These desires won't do, she tries to reason with herself. He's Mako, king of the stoic, he'd never even consider –

But there's a part of Korra that she herself has entitled the 'inherent Avatar-ness', and she's always felt it strengthen during moments of self-doubt. It's the thought 'You're the Avatar, you can do whatever the fuck you want' that surfaces all-too frequently (at least, according to Tenzin and Chief Beifong) and gets her moving again. She smirks at her creation and as she's storing it someplace the kids won't ever find it (because the thought of that is just – oh, spirits), she thinks determinedly, _'Mako is mine mine **mine.'**_

Her fantasies get more perverted over time; she wasn't even sure if that was possible. And the scary thing is, she doesn't even try to stop herself anymore. She only lasted one day trying to pretend she wasn't always thinking of bending Mako over the nearest available surface and – a fireball almost hits her face, and she can feel a few eyebrow hairs singe right off.

“You're not up to speed today, Korra,” Mako says. Maybe before, Korra would've argued, but she stops herself from saying _'I'll show you speed.'_ Instead, she entertains herself with images of gagging Mako with his own scarf. Bolin looks at the pair of them curiously. He's more perceptive of feelings than his brother, and Korra's still quite unsure of whether she should go through with this or not (even with that thing stashed under a floorboard under her bed) so she forces herself to reign it in. No one can know.

Naturally, Bolin figures it out a day later.

“So you have the hots for my brother,” he say in between gulps of water, sometime during a practice break. Mako is doing backbends in the corner again and this time, she's trying not to drool.

“What?” she shoots a panicked look at Bolin. “No no no of course not why would you think that no.” 

“Because you always stare at him like he's the last piece of seal jerky before a long winter hits.”

“I do _not!_ ” Mako pauses and looks at them curiously. She hastily waves back, wearing a stupid grin on her face and he probably figures there’s nothing abnormal about Korra acting like a moron because he goes right back to stretching.

“Don't tell him, please,” she whispers to Bolin urgently.

“Hey, by all means, go do your thing. Bang him six ways from Sunday, I think it'll do all of us a whole lot of good.”

“Ew, Bolin, that's just weird, coming from you.” Nevertheless, she can't help but grin.

“What? I'm not asking for the dirty details or anything. Mako probably needs it badly, Korra. I'm pretty sure that if you don't do something, he'll be celibate 'til the next time Sozin's comet rolls around – He's so detached from sex he might as well be an air nomad.” Bolin pauses, looks thoughtful, and then follows it up with “...Still too soon for an air nomad joke, huh?”

She nod solemnly. “Too soon, Bolin. Too soon.”

It doesn't feel any better that she's somehow gotten Bolin's 'permission' to fuck Mako. Because it's not like she ever wanted it anyway, and Bolin does weird things because of it like give her a pair of Mako's underwear. She hopes that's not a Republic City ritual or something. The city's weird enough. But Bolin makes up for it by leaving them alone together a lot, using really lame reasons like 'I have to go wash our earmuffs,' to which Mako reminds him that they don't have them anymore because Pabu thought they were cotton candy. “Oh yeah, well, bye,” Bolin just replies, and leaves, but not before miming something lewd to Korra while Mako's back is turned.

She signals at him to get out, a bit scandalized that he's picturing these things all-too willingly.

But she have to admit, all the chances Bolin's been giving are making her a lot braver – meaning she becomes much more desperate and 'stupid' might be the more accurate term instead.

Because Korra starts leering. She starts looking at Mako with the smuggest grins possible, the ones that pretty much send out 'Why, yes, I _am_ picturing you screaming my name'. It's her first play to get Mako in her bed, and he starts to notice it the more she does it. She figured the first thing she should do is let Mako know that she was pleasuring herself to him nightly. And so she goes for that not-so-subtle look to hopefully reel in him.

He raises an eyebrow and asks “Korra, are you okay? Half of your face is stuck or something.”

Okay, she needs to be even _less_ subtle.

She doesn't think she's ever been so shameless in all of her life. Because she begins openly flirting with Mako, making suggestions like “You should unbutton your coat a bit more, because it's really hot in here.” When that doesn't work ('because Mako is a brickhead,' Bolin explains), she loses what little ounce of decorum she had left.

He finally – well, sort of – gets the hint when she wolf-whistles one day, right as he bends over to fix the net in the gym. She doesn't even try to stop the coy smile forming on her lips as he gets up, looking evidently disturbed by what she just did. “What was that?” Mako looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” she says innocently. “I just thought, well, I appreciated the view so why not express my appreciation in the proper manner?”

Mako stares for a very long time.

But Korra can see it. The slightest blush tinging his cheeks, the gears in his head finally turning because he realizes what precisely she wants.

“I don't need any help with my self-esteem, but thanks, I guess?”

She wants to bang her head against the wall.

\--

“Your brother is the densest person I've ever met,” she groans to Bolin one day, while they're out for drinks. Mako isn't fond of alcohol so he's not with them, and she placates herself of thoughts of him masturbating furiously in the attic during their absence. It's nice. 

“You're not being forward enough, Korra,”

“Are you kidding? I'm _made_ of forward.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Idon'tknow.”

Bolin takes a good long drink, staring at her from behind his glass all the while. He looks thoughtful, and then smiles that smile that he often reserves for girls he propositions to using the opening line 'You know, the great wrestler The Boulder is my ancestor.'

“Maybe you don't really want him.”

“I do. I _do_ want him,” Korra replies angrily, banging her fists on the table for good measure. Maybe she's a little drunk, and even worse, she's falling for Bolin's tricks even when she know he's full of shit. “I explicitly said one day, as I made him help me put on my gear even though I've never asked before: 'Mako, you did mine, now let me do _you_ ' in like the most suggestive voice ever, and it flew right over his head. He's so used to dodging things that maybe it's built into him to dodge even the most obvious connotations.”

“Nah, I don't think so, Korra.” Bolin rubs at an invisible beard and it's almost a parody of Tenzin. She can't help but chuckle at that. “I mean, you're the Avatar. That's like two thousand instant swag points right there! You don't even have to do anything and he should be begging you for sex, and yet he's not. So maybe--” He does an exaggerated shrugging of shoulders, and she pouts. “--You're not as into this as I thought you would be.”

“I am, Bolin,” she insists, voice rising. She's spent too many nights playing with that piece of metal to have someone tell her that she doesn't want to fuck Mako enough.

“I don't see it. Nope.”

“But I _do_ want him!”

“Nah,” Bolin says loudly. “You're probably just like the fangirl he said you were before when we first met. You just appreciate how he looks, but are ultimately just content to stare.”

That hits a nerve. She can't even explain why. The only reason she can come up with for that is 'alcohol'. And that is also the reason she chooses that moment to dramatically grab Bolin by the collar and haul him towards her.

“Bolin, I want him so bad he's all I think about, he's all I dream about, he's all I masturbate myself to. Every time we eat, I think 'Hmm, I wonder what Mako tastes like'. I wonder what he sounds like in bed. I hit him deliberately during training just to listen to all the possible variations of sounds that he makes, and then I imagine him mumbling them in all my deepest, darkest fantasies. Yes, they are perverted. You don't even wanna know, Bolin. You don't wanna know, but I'm going to tell you. Because I want to fuck him hard – and in a very non-vanilla way, mind you. I want him completely at my mercy, constantly begging me to give him more. Sometimes, there's glitter involved. Glitter and whips and candle wax. But only sometimes. Mostly, I just think about wanting to give it to him 'til he can't walk. I think about how long I could keep him chained up in a basement before I have to let him out to compete in a pro-bending match. I imagine burning his clothes off and then using my earthbending to hold him fucking _still_ while I fasten on a strap-on – yes, I do have one, didn't you know? – that I made using a fucking _statue_ of my predecessor. The other Avatars must be condemning me to spirit world purgatory as we speak. But what do you expect me to do? Go up to him with it and say 'hey, Mako, I made this, by the way, do you mind me wearing it while I fuck you in the ass?' But I've been trying to make my intentions pretty damn obvious, so don't tell me I don't fucking want him!”

She's breathless when she's done, and apologetically wipes some of the spit off Bolin's face. He looks upset, but not because of that.

“Aw, man,” He says, slumping back in his seat. “I said didn't want to hear those dirty details! Now I can't stop picturing my brother-- augh!” He scrubs at his eyes. “Damn, Korra! You really _are_ crazy. About him."

“I know,” she says, expression completely serious.

Bolin leaves the topic alone after that. So she's on her own, again.

### PART II: ONCE BITTEN

She formulates her own plan. The idea is simple: make sure to touch Mako, as often as possible, through any means necessary. She grabs his gear before practice and hands each part to him one by one, smiling sweetly even when he's silently expressing 'What the hell are you doing' using classic Mako eyebrow sign language. But he doesn't say anything, even when she purposely and languidly caresses him while strapping on his chest plate (not that he even asked or wanted her to).

She's feeling extra daring one day as they finish up their drills. She bounds towards the firebender happily, as he's walking out the door, and clamors “Great practice today, captain!” And makes sure to slap him. 

Right.

On.

The. 

Ass.

Mako freezes. She sees the shock register in his eyes, the pink hue spilling all over his cheeks. His mouth is tightens in a thin line and at first she thinks he's going to yell at her. She can't help but shrink back a little, seeing his shoulders go rigid like that. Maybe this _was_ too daring.

But with an audible exhale of air, Mako turns around and walks right out of the room, pretending not to notice.

Well, Korra thinks, relishing the few moments that she had him under her control. It's a step forward. And an interesting one.

She's still in the process of figuring out what precisely makes Mako tick, and how to rewire that tick to get him to think 'must agree to sex with Korra'. The fact that he hasn't told her off after that stunt is quite the pleasant surprise. But it's not as if she can further test her limits by smacking his ass on a daily basis. 

Well, once every few days doesn't hurt.

And it's worth it, each time, to see his face color brilliantly, as he keeps his gaze ahead acts like nothing happened. Like the Avatar having absolutely no personal space is part of the package when being around Korra. The internal struggle there is evident, no matter how blank he tries to project himself as. She can feel him radiating utter frustration, fighting with himself 'to bring it up or not to bring it up?', 'to deal with this crazy girl or hope her craziness dies down eventually?'.

All those thoughts threatening to break his self-control. Because of her.

Korra begins getting off on that, too.

She used to peg Mako as the unrelenting type. She thought he had a bossy streak with the way he would order them around during training and police even their wave-to-the-crowd stances. _Seriously_. But he goes from barking out orders to staying completely quiet during meals, at most offering snark whenever Korra or Bolin say something particularly dumb. 

“I can't _believe_ Chief Beifong,” Korra whines after a stressful day spent gallivanting around town, doing errands for Pema. “She actually tried to have me arrested yesterday for sticking a piece of gum on a lamp post. Two nights in jail for littering, she says! Good thing Tenzin was there to save my ass but I had to meditate about 'what I'd done' for five freakin' hours afterward.”

“You'd think she'd treat you better since you're kind of the reincarnation of her brother-in-law,” Bolin pipes up, cheerfully. He seems to enjoy hearing stories about pissed off police officers, and Korra is only happy to indulge him.

“Well, if only she-- wait, wha? Toph didn't marry Sokka!” Korra shoots back, noodles flying out of her mouth. She's honestly not sure if Toph did or did not. The Order of White Lotus encouraged her to learn more about her past in the library they built into the compound, but she always preferred playing with Naga, and the library rugs would not have stood a chance against a polar bear dog.

“Didn't she?”

“No, Toph married one of their other friends, like, Teo or something, who was supposed to be some kind of duke who invented a mechanical plane that flew into the moon.” 

“You two are hopeless,” Mako sighs, and pulls a rag out to wipe the mess Korra made. She tries not to admire his forearms as he does so, but it's _Mako_ so she ogles him anyway.

\--

He rarely hangs out with her and Bolin, which Korra is actually glad for since she's not sure if she would be capable of functioning at all if Mako was always around being a tease. She still maintained that no one swished their hips unintentionally when they walked. As if he didn't plague her dreams often enough...

Bolin ends up dragging him to one of their latest schemes, like finding Pabu a wife (that incident would eventually become the stuff of legends). They have to plead with him for a long while before he relents and throws up his hands. “Alright, alright, I'll come! Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

That's essentially his tactic, Korra muses while in the middle of strategizing for her 'get-Mako-into-my-bed' mission. Mako's composed leader act falters occasionally, and she's finally found the reason for it: he retreats the moment he decides that control isn't worth fighting for. He's passive because it's usually too much of a bother to be assertive.

It's a theory. Initially.

Soon enough, it gets proven during one of their probending matches.

They're up against the Koala Bears, a team that had to drop out last year because they all contracted platypus pox. They have a growing reputation as one of the stronger contenders in the tournament, which is why Mako's had them training extra hard all month.

Korra feels genuinely sorry when they're able to knock her back to zone 2 in a matter of seconds. Focusing on the Avatar during a match (really, she doesn't know why they bother; the whole 'can bend all elements' is moot as long as she's in the ring) is a common strategy for the opposing team, though, and Korra doesn't mind the constant barrages of earth, fire and water as long as she's taking their attention away from the real hero in their team.

And speaking of attention...

Korra casts a glance at their fearless leader who dodges a fireblast by pivoting quickly to the side. Despite her overpowering lust for him, Korra inwardly admits that she still hasn't gotten over how _good_ he is at probending. He's never more alive than when he's in the ring.

She doesn't mean to let her gaze stray to his ass; it's just a bad habit by now, really. But before she knows it, the familiar voice of the commentator is booming in her ears – “Annnnd it looks as though the Avatar has decided she'd rather watch her teammate's fancy moves than do some footwork of her own--” A disk pummels her and she feels herself falling. “--Look at that folks! Mako's probending talents have left the Avatar as enamored as the rest of us! Maybe next time, she ought to sit in the audience for a change...”

They win by the skin of their teeth, and thanks to zero help from her.

Bolin naturally doesn't blame her; just casts her a sympathetic, then amused glance before he sidesteps his fuming brother and practically flees out the door. Mako shuts it behind him, not even having bothered to spare Bolin a glance. Stupid, sneaky brothers, Korra thinks, irritated. They probably discussed this beforehand.

But it's the first time Mako has purposely isolated them, so she doesn't resent them much at all.

“Mako, I--”

“What.” Mako takes off his helmet. “Was that.” He flings it to the side. Korra winces; their equipment is shoddy enough and things must be really bad if Mako's willing to abuse it like that. 

“I was just having an off-day, okay?”

“Korra, you were--” She can sense his tumbling over words, trying not to smile at Mako's reddening face. “Staring at me. During a _match_.”

“I wasn't staring at you!”

“Really. You weren't.” His tone is so dry Korra couldn't possibly waterbend anything out of it. She smiles as widely as possible.

“I was staring at your ass.”

The blush is back full-force, and she wants to burst into giggles at the sight of the boy before her. Mako's obviously struggling with himself, trying to look imposing no matter what even though the mortification is evident there.

“Korra,” he says in a choked voice. “You can't do stuff like that. D-during a match.”

“I was just appreciating the view!” She argues. Okay, now she's deliberately just pushing his buttons. But it's fun to see Mako look torn between pulling out all his hair out and hiding in his bed.

“Well, _stop,_ like, okay?” He suddenly sounds twelve. “Seriously, you're putting our chances of winning in jeopardy.”

Korra throws up her hands. “Dammit, Mako! How do you not see that I'm trying to get in your pants?!”

She doesn't mean to make that outburst, really. But it's just in her nature to say things without thinking, so all she can do is stare at Mako with wide eyes and an 'Oops' written all over her face. Mako stares back, realization dawning in _(finally)_ and goes so rigid Korra wonders if he's going to faint.

“Korra, I-- we--” He's moving backward, toward the door and Korra thinks _'there goes my chance,'_ heart sinking. He's not interested at all, he's never gonna be because his one true love will always be probending and money, apparently. Maybe as a last ditch effort, she should offer to pay him? 

“We're teammates, it wouldn't be good for the team.”

“Good for the team? _That's your reason?!_ ” Practically exuding steam from her nostrils, Korra stomps towards him and Mako backs up further, and this scene would be totally hot if they were actually about to do it. “Bullshit! The first team Avatar was fucking around all the time and they won the war!”

“To be fair, those rumors of Firelord Zuko and Katara were never really confirmed to be true--”

“Don't interrupt me!” Mako actually _shrinks_ back and Korra corners him against the wall. She can see the hint of rebellion in his eyes as he meets her gaze, flustered but curious and she swears his eyelashes actually fucking _flutter_.

“Tell me you don't want this,” she says roughly, pushing her body flush against his. Mako's got his firmly at his sides, and Korra's reminded of the time he refused to hold her while they were riding Naga. Bolin was _so_ right when he called Mako repressed. “Tell me you don't want me to fuck you.”

Mako actually _flinches._ “That's Bolin's thing,” he argues, though his voice is distant, like he's trying to convince himself. “Not mine.” 

“It's everyone's thing,” she says absently, running her hands up his waist and over his chest. She can't take much more of this dancing around their desires and crap.

“You know what, forget it!” She backs off abruptly, leaving Mako looking utterly bewildered. “Let's spar.”

“A-after what you just said-?!”

“No, that's why I'm saying, leave it for now.” She goes to the middle of the room, stretching her arms. “I'm not gonna keep doing this while you keep radiating 'bad touch' all over you. We're sparring, because I'm fucking sexually frustrated. Because of _you_. It's the least you could do since you can't even say 'sex' out loud apparently, even though I see that sleazy face you make whenever Bolin picks up a chick.”

“You're very weird today. Weirder than usual.” He's trying to snatch back his composure. Korra won't let him.

“Thank you for that diagnosis, doctor, but come on. Hop to it!”

“Korra, I don't--”

She throws a fireball at him. Mako flips out of the way and immediately throws it back, leaving Korra to extinguish it with a flick of the wrist. _'Immediately back to pro-bending mode,'_ she notes to herself, bemused, as she launches another burst of flames at him. Mako raises his arms in front of him, forming an X with them before initiating a firekick. 

It's the perfect opportunity, Korra thinks with a smirk, as she dives to the floor. There's nothing she loves more than when her opponents throw themselves at her, because that's when they're at their most vulnerable. That's when they're easiest to strike down.

She rolls, kicks out at Mako's leg, tripping him, bringing him down. There's an audible “Oof!” as he lands with a hard thud, on his back.

Korra finds herself standing over him, triumphant. She wants to photograph the alarmed look on his face, just as he's realized he lost and is now on the floor at the mercy of _her_.

Korra gets down and wrenches Mako's knees apart, eliciting a grunt of protest from him. He tries to sit up; Korra's palm forces him back down, pushing hard on his chest as she moves in between his legs until her hips are sandwiched between his thighs. Mako's leaning on his elbows, looking at her with trepidation, but Korra gives him no further time to protest. She shoves forward, practically grinding against him as she sidles herself up his chest. Soon, she's on top of him. He's obviously hard, the bastard, even though he's still squirming, half-heartedly trying to push her off. With a 'tsk' noise, Korra grips his wrists and pins them above his head, lowering her face and kissing him 

She shouldn't be surprised to feel his lips, merely frozen beneath hers. She didn't really have any expectations when it came to kissing because she knew it would just remind her of how much she wanted _more_. Furious, she presses her tongue against his lips until he relents, slowly opening his mouth. 

Korra hears his quiet moan, feels it leave his mouth and the noise goes straight to her crotch. He's still shifting, a last ditch attempt to resist her, the poor thing, and the way he's twisting his wrists in her grip is only making her want everything he has to give.

Making out with Mako is an okay consolation prize, she decides. And the whole writhing against each other part, the sex with clothes on, isn't so bad either. But when she withdraws, and sees Mako looking utterly debauched, lips parted and face flushing scarlet, she knows she has to get the fuck out of there or else Mako won't survive the night.

“Reconsider my offer, Mako,” she whispers, voice sultry. That's usually not how she rolls, but what the hey. The mood calls for it. “I could make you feel _amazing_ and you know it.”

She swiftly gets off of him and strides out of the room, chin up and wearing a triumphant grin. With a final passing glance, she sees Mako still struggling to get up (apparently her kiss was so intense she must've chi-blocked him or something, _fuck yeah_ ). He's cutely embarrassed, and Korra can't bear to look anymore. She has serious _needs_ to attend to after that debacle.

It might take Mako a while to come around completely, but Korra revels in the fact that she _knows_ it's only a matter of time, because even from the beginning, Mako had never actually said “No.” It's just his weird brand of logic stopping him now, or reservations or whatever, but Korra can figure that out. He wants her and she can work with that.

Now, she just has to devise a reason for him to give himself up to her _completely._

\--

One would think kissing Mako would've alleviated her obsession a little, but it's only made it so much worse. Now she knows what it's like to have him under her, squirming with pleasure, and it's imprinted in her mind along with an ultimatum: that the next time they're in that position, she better be fucking him.

But she realizes there's not much sense in threatening herself, so clearly it's time to cool off a little.

Korra busts out her handy little contraption, testing its weight in her hand. It's supple, not too heavy, and after some nightly measuring, she's figured out the proper dimensions for it to clamp well enough around her hips. That night, she fastens it over her pants. It's not like she can practice on anything anyway, because she draws the line at humping inanimate objects and pretending they're Mako.

Korra grips the shaft, admiring her own handiwork. Her expression turns bemused when she sees the slightest imprint of Aang's line of a mouth and eyes right on the bulbed tip. Hastily, she smoothens out those edges and silently apologizes to the spirits as she bends the rough edges away, the metal contracting and becoming smooth and sleek.

The door opens. Tenzin walks in.

“Korra, Pema just picked a fresh batch of lychee fruits and--” He stops at the door, looks at Korra, then looks down at the thing on her crotch.

It's the most embarrassing moment of Korra's life.

“Tenzin, I --” she freezes and stops herself. This is one situation where the bathroom excuse will just make everything sound ten times worse. “I was just going to use it o-on – Mako – _no_ , with Mako! In probending, uh.” She bends it off her and banishes it back under the bed, but Tenzin is still starting at her, practically slack-jawed. “Not like that! It's a training device. Not one you, uh, think. It's for, um.”

There's a heavy silence between them. Tenzin coughs. Korra can't help the bright shade of red she's turning into.

“Korra,” says Tenzin in an odd, hollow sort of voice. “If you're feeling – confused --”

“No!” Korra practically leaps and pushes Tenzin back out the door. “I _don't_ need to hear about the ratbirds and the frogbees from you, Tenzin! Look, this is embarrassing enough and we're just going to pretend this never happened so don't-tell-Pema-okay?!” Tenzin still looks frazzled as she slams the door in his face. For once, he's not the one to make a dramatic airbending exit.

The night is pretty much ruined after that. Korra has no choice but to roll around in her bed, consumed by sheer mortification.

She won't be able to look Tenzin straight in the eye for _months_.

### PART III: THERE AND BACK AGAIN

Tenzin's interruption unnerved her.

Guilt and shame are eating at her psyche now every time she dares to fantasize about Mako when in her bed, and it also means she can't really make plans about seducing him like she used to.

So when she walks into practice, sees Mako, walks right up to him (he sort of backs away when she does that, which makes her feel a bit bad but it mostly turns her on) and says “You know, the ass is a wonderful thing,” she's not really surprised when he stares and suggests that they should just postpone practice that day. She watches him skitter out of the room and winces as he closes the door. Well, the line really _was_ terrible.

But then she realizes that she has no idea how to move forward. How is she gonna get Mako now when cornerning him seems impossible? When he knows of her intentions yet runs for his life whenever she says something the least bit sexual?

_What do I fucking do now?!_ She fumes, and takes her frustration out on the earth discs for a while. 

“Um, Korra, not that I mind when you get extra bad-ass-y, but we're going to have to pay for those discs if you Avatar-smash 'em to bits.” Korra quickly floats them all back into a neat pile, sheepish. Bolin looks cautious as he proceeds toward her, stopping momentarily to put down his duffel bag.

“Strange, Mako's usually the first one here.”

“Oh, um, I... Scared him off. Practice is postponed, unless you're okay with it being just the two of us.”

Bolin gives her one of his trademark confused glances. She can tell he's wrestling with himself internally on whether he wants to hear the full story or not. All she can do is sigh. She thought she could do this without Bolin but honestly, at the very moment, she _needs_ a friend to talk to.

\--

“No,” Bolin's mouth hangs open. He appears downright incredulous. “You _didn't!_ ”

“I did.” Her shoulders slump as she says it. They're still in the gym, sharing the single bench that's supposed to be used for weightlifting. “He scrammed right after that. I thought I was getting closer to my – my goal --” (Bolin looks pointedly away upon hearing that) “--But I've made things worse. He doesn't even wanna be in the same room with me.”

“Okay, honestly, can't say I blame him.”

“Thanks for that,” she replies dejectedly, then stares at him with narrow eyes. “I know I've been kind of overly-forward, but what am I doing _wrong_ to make a guy who's already into me not wanna let me do him?”

“It's the perks,” Bolin says, snapping his fingers all of a sudden. “There aren't enough of 'em.”

“Excuse me? Not to toot my own tsungi horn or anything, but I'm _awesome_!” She flails her arms to emphasize her point. “I'd be a great lay and Mako's so close to knowing it!”

Bolin twitches, and turns to face her fully. “Remember that line we talked about? The one you promised not to cross again so I wouldn't have to wash my eyes out imagining you and my brother getting kinky? You're getting really close again, let me tell you.”

“Sorry.”

“But to explain further, you're not exactly giving him options. You're not leaving doors open, it's like you're walking over to his property, bursting through his doorway and demanding that he have sex with you.” Korra gives him a strange look, because she's still trying to wrap her head around how that could possibly be considered a wrong approach. Bolin notices, and groans exasperatedly. 

“He likes _control_ , Korra! I know my brother pret-ty well; he doesn't even let me fold my own clothes. Well, sometimes, when I beg, he'll let me, but when he thinks I'm not awake, he'll actually get up in the middle of the night to re-fold them himself. That's how much of a control freak he is, and he's uncomfortable handing it all to you because he knows next to nothing about lovemaking and even less about lovemaking with a girl who can toss him around like a ragdoll.”

“Oh.” Korra stares at the floor, a strange feeling washing over her. It's almost... Disappointing. To realize that given the way Mako is, getting him to agree to have sex with her is already difficult. And then on the other hand, to get him to agree to what she wants--

Dammit.

“I've been delusional, haven't I.” It's not going to happen, and the thought is hitting her full-force. It's not. She was crazy to think that just because she could get him to see her as someone fuck-worthy, he'd actually throw himself at her feet and beg for it.

Right. That's not Mako at all.

Bolin pats her shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, my whole speech wasn't supposed to discourage you.”

“But I basically have no chance since he clearly doesn't even want sex at all!”

“Not true.” Bolin actually winks, and then promptly looks surprised at himself for doing so. “You have him conflicted. It's obvious. He's thinking about it now. His bits want it, it's just his brain that's protesting. So you have to convince him to side with his bits.”

“Right. His bits.” Korra nods, totally thinking of his ass.

“And,” Bolin holds up a finger. “If you can't compromise on this control thing? Then find a way to make him _believe_ he's in control.” 

“Um, I'm coming up empty on how to do that one,” Korra admits with a weak smile. “But you're right, Bolin! I may just be able to screw your brother yet.”

“Yeah, and that there was the line.” They share a laugh. Bolin's sounds a bit forced, but the smile that follows is genuine. Korra dusts off her hands as she stands up, with newfound confidence even though she's still without any real strategy.

“Thanks for that, Bo. You made me feel a lot better.”

“No prob,” he says, getting up as well. “We're bros, after all. And I have one more thing that might help...” He fishes through his pocket or something and holds it up. When Korra sees it, she can't hold back her grin.

\--

In hindsight, Korra has no idea how Bolin giving her the spare key to his and Mako’s apartment is supposed to help. She’s supposed to convince Mako that a good buttfuck of a screw is a fantastic idea, not encourage him to file a restraining order. And as to why Bolin is just happy to let her do all of this, she’s still not sure. Sibling relationships are something she’ll never quite understand.

She sneaks in at around noon, per Bolin’s suggestion. Beifong’s voice booms in her head, _“Breaking and entering now, too? Do you have ANY moral code whatsoever?”_ She banishes it to the back of her mind while slowly nudging open the door that she just unlocked. After slipping Bolin’s key into her pocket, she tiptoes inside.

The splashing sounds emanating from a distant corner of the room are all she needs to hear.

_Bingo._

And there’s that feral grin again, the one that Bolin warned her never to show Mako if she didn’t want him hightailing it out of Republic City on the first express train. She can’t help it; her face automatically contorts that expression when thinking about him, especially when thinking about him _naked_ in the shower, rivulets of water marking their way down his pale skin, and she wants to trace those paths with her fingers then with her tongue.

Okay, enough purple prose, she decides. Action time.

It’s easy to visualize the showerhead inside the brothers’ tiny bathroom. It’s something she’s seen before, seeing as she spends almost all her time at their place these days. Korra pictures the metal pipes connected to it, sees in her mind’s eye the water going up, up, up the spout. She presses her hands and forehead against the wooden wall that separates her from Mako. He’s probably scrubbing himself with soap, self-lathering like a god and – _okay, Korra, what did we say about the purple prose?_

_Do it for that glorious ass,_ she thinks, recalling her favorite mantra. And closes her eyes and pinpoints the direction of the flow, and freezes the water.

Immediately, the sound of water spraying out ceases. Korra knows she’s hit her mark, and lets out a silent whoop of appreciation. She notices the faint sounds of someone shuffling, and the creak of the shower knob. It’s easy to visualize Mako’s adorably confused face as he fiddles with it.

“…Again…?” She hears him murmur to himself, and the vocalization is followed by a sigh. He must be wondering if they forgot to pay their water bill. That’s her signal to move out of the way as he’s probably fishing around for his towel. She bounds to the orange moth-eaten couch, concealing herself behind a raggedy arm. Craning her neck to the side still grants her the spectacular view she’s waiting for.

The bathroom door is flung open, and Korra hears a _thunk_ resonate within her own body from the impact of her heart dropping into her abdomen. Mako strides out looking like he belongs on a billboard, a white towel wrapped around his waist that (thank the spirits) barely even reaches halfway to his knees. White, milky thighs, slender calves and a stomach she could use as an ironing board – yes, _this_ is the boy she wants to fuck. His skin is glistening – actually fucking _glistening_ – and his hair is a spiky, tantalizing mess. 

He strides over to the telephone on the small table in front of the sofa, probably about to call Toza to iron out the glitch. But the receiver is barely to his ear when Korra decides it’s her time to pounce.

She practically charges him, jumping out from behind the couch like a serial killer. Lucky for her, Mako’s first instinct isn’t to firebend – it’s to let out an uncharacteristically loud squeal as she tackles him to the sofa, ending up draped all over him, her hips knocking against his. The front of her shirt is soaked after smacking against his still-glistening chest.

She’s straddling him, pinning him back against the cushions of the ratty couch. The friction of her thighs sandwiching his lap causes the towel to slide even lower down his hips. She almost rocks against him again just to get it to unravel completely, but Mako lets out another undignified sound and clutches it like a lifeline. Before she can get to admiring his impressive waistline, however, he pipes up in a strained voice:

“Korra! What in the he—“

“Shh, shh, it’s okay!” She pushes her face close to his. He nervously leans back. “I’m just hear to apologize, so um, settle down and stop squirming. Hear me out first.” 

“It would help your case a lot more if you got off of me,” he grumbles, still trying to tug at the towel, but Korra purposely doesn’t budge. She swallows, her throat unusually dry as she looks right at Mako’s cro— _oh, wait_ – lips – no, no – eyes. She pointedly focuses on his adorably wide amber eyes.

“In a second. Look: I came here to apologize, alright? For, um, everything. For the inappropriate behavior and the being too forward thing, especially.” He’s rigid beneath her, but the blush is already there, visibly traveling down his chest like a fast-spreading bushfire. 

Still, he’s once again trying to maintain his composure, pointedly ignoring the position they’re currently in and sidestepping Korra’s innuendos. He raises one eyebrow. “And breaking into my apartment and straddling me is your way of saying sorry?”

“Well, why not? This is just a friendly visit. Between friends. Who routinely and comfortably admire each other’s physiques from time to time, yeah?” She stares intently at those golden eyes, relishes in how they glaze over momentarily. A sign of weakness. _C’mon, Mako, just give in to all your innermost desires and all that crap…_

But he doesn’t (somehow). Instead he lays there, turning various shades of crimson like a cornered chameleo-cat. Then, he shifts, and even Korra is jostled a bit by his unexpected movement. She feels his warm palms slowly wrap around her forearms. And his gaze hardens, like he’s almost frowning.

“Korra, look…” There is a long pause. “I don’t know… If I can give you what you want from me.”

Hold on a fucking second. He looks… _Upset?_

Ignoring the feeling of her internal organs collectively rupturing, Korra tries to get him back on track. What the hell was her main point again? And what the fuck is he going on about ‘giving her what she wants’, talking like she’s just threatened him? She suddenly entertains the uncomfortable image of her as a triad member demanding payment, Mako the victim who’s fearfully refusing.

Korra scrambles to reel him back in. She thought being on his lap like this would help, dammit. _Don’t guys like that kind of thing? Why was Mako being so difficult?_ Maybe she should back off? But true Korra fashion simply dictates for her to push _harder._ So she does, and grabs his arms back, hauling the distraught firebender closer.

“No, no, no, here’s the thing! I don’t want anything. I wanted to tell you just that, actually. That I’ve maybe been a bit too relentless in my pursuit of you, and well, from now on, I want to hear what you wanna do. Anything, I swear. You name it, you call the shots.” It’s getting a lot harder to ignore the lovely visage before her, of water droplets turning to steam on Mako’s chest. So it’s true that firebenders get so many unfair perks. 

“There’s tension between us, obviously, and we have to get rid of it. Especially if we want to become a better team. So I’m letting _you_ , Mr. Team Captain, decide…?” She pants, out of breath. Mako is staring at her, trying to make sense of her words. Okay, maybe she intentionally gyrated a bit on his lap while she was talking, and it may have been more distracting than helpful. But she sees the idea slowly sinking in. There’s recognition in his eyes, and is that…? Oh, _yes. Yes it is._ She can feel the hardness under the towel now. It’s nudging encouragingly at her thigh. _Jackpot._

“So, which is it?” She says, voice husky. Her fingers are dancing on his neck now, stroking his collarbone as she draws herself even closer to relish the sparks of warmth pooling at her fingertips. “I mean, I can ravish you right here or if you wanna go to my place, I have a special something—“

“A date!” Mako bursts out, in a voice so loud that Korra almost topples right off the couch.

“-- Whaa?”

He sighs. He’s still inching back, hesitantly trying to get Korra off his lap while somehow simultaneously trying to maintain his grip on the measly towel, but she plants herself down firmer and feels the familiar hardness that’s still persistent against her leg. She smirks at the resounding groan. 

“Please listen to me,” he all but squeaks, almost thrashing, and Korra pouts before finally lifting herself off him and settling down on the other end of the couch.

_“Fine.”_

He sits up. She’s trying to maintain eye contact, she really is, but from this angle, she can almost certainly see his—

“Look, Korra…” Drops trickle down to his bare shoulders as Mako shakes his head. _Yes, I’m looking,_ she wants to snark back, and shove a hand up his damn towel while she’s at it.

“You got me, alright? I mean, I have… Feelings for you. Obviously. And you… Also seem to be, well, interested?” He exhales deeply, staring at her with tinted cheeks. “Thing is… This is kind of embarrassing but one-night stands aren’t my thing. Neither is the whole benefits system and…” He runs a hand through his sopping wet hair. Korra bites her lip, wishing she could do that for him.

“-- I’m not good at any of this but I do know enough about dating to want to do it one step at a time. So, is that…” His breath hitches on the last word. “…Okay?”

Korra blinks. And imitates a guppy for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she struggles with a response to that. Her mind is still frankly caught in the incredulity of Mako using the term ‘benefits system’.

“Wow, well, jeez, Mako, I… Holy shit, of course! Yes! Let’s go on a date.” It’s nice, seeing the tension leave Mako’s shoulders for once, even if it’s only by a fraction. She notices his sigh, how something changes in his eyes so that now, even though he still looks nervous and blank and very typically Mako, there’s something else: he’s _beaming._ Sort of, in a pointy-eyebrows-scrunched-together Mako kind of way.

“We can go right now, even, though maybe you should, y’know, put on some clothes first? It’s hard enough being distracted by your scantily-clad body.” But she can’t help but laugh as the smile promptly slides off his face, replaced by a full-on blush.

\---

“I’m an idiot. A stupid, blithering, no-good, pathetic—“ she clunks the glass of sake in time to every word, ignoring Bolin’s nervous glances. Hey, if it’s genuine Southern Water Tribe-made, it won’t break.

“I thought we were celebrating a milestone in your torrid love affair with my brother, not throwing a pity party.”

“No, no, I mean I’m _happy_ that he gave me a chance, Bolin.” Sake spills everywhere as she waggles her arms like a madwoman. Okay, she’s a little drunk. “He asked me out on a date, for crying out loud! I just feel so guilty because it never hit me before that Mako might actually love me, and here I’ve been acting like just another fangirl who wants his body.” She mimes tracing the curves of his torso.

Okay, she’s a lot drunk.

“Mm-hmm, yep, he definitely loves ya,” Bolin says after a lengthy sip. Korra rounds on him, furious.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”

Bolin throws up his hands in exasperation. “I thought it was obvious! But now that I think about it, it’s time for me to be the overprotective brother here. I trust you, Korra, you’re one of my dearest friends and more importantly my biggest fan—“

“I am?”

“—But if this leaves my brother heartbroken by the end of it then maybe I don’t want to go along with your scheme anymore. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you feel the same way about Mako?”

They glance at each other, Korra fixing her companion with a challenging look. But Bolin has a good point. He’s just looking out for his brother before he can properly, with a clean conscience, pimp him out to the Avatar. 

Korra rubs at her chin. This love and feelings crap is annoying but she supposes she just has to deal with it, especially since Mako is apparently a ‘love and feelings’ kind of guy after all.

“I… Well, needless to say, I’ve never pictured nailing anyone the way I wanna do Mako. Doesn’t that, in some way, qualify as a really specific type of love?” 

“If you say so,” Bolin replies, gaze suddenly fixated on a lone noodle at the end of his fork. His face looks kind of red, though she can’t tell if it’s the embarrassment or the alcohol.

Definitely not the alcohol.

“Drill any of my brother’s parts in whatever kinky way you want, Korra. But just don’t drill his _heart,_ ” Bolin adds sagely, before taking another long sip.

\--

It’s Korra’s fault that their date ends up taking place almost a week later.

It’s not that she was hesitant – if anything, she’s _so close_ to getting into Mako’s pants and she may as well sound the victory bells right now, confident asshole that she is. But when Mako schedules their outing on the night before a big game, Korra has to refuse.

“I actually want us to focus on practicing for the match, first. It might lower our chances of winning if we’re too busy obsessing over the date instead,” she tells him, sounding very reasonable. 

Even Mako’s surprised at her unexpected pragmatism, and he immediately agrees. “Really? Well, come to think of it, that makes sense. Good thinking, Korra.” 

She smiles and gets back to practicing her waterjets. It’s hard to hold in a snigger. _What I really mean is, if we do fuck the night before, you might be too sore to play._

Bolin watches them awkwardly dance around the topic of their date for the next few days, and simply shakes his head each time he has to witness it. Korra swears she hears him mutter at some point, “No idea what’s gonna hit him, poor bastard…” But before she can even turn around and glare at the earthbender, he’s already halfway across the gym, whistling along to the jazz tune that’s blaring from the radio.

So she throws herself into probending practice, keeps her eyes on Mako’s face for once, and ignores the perpetual stirring in her gut. No matter how strange it is that her constant horniness has started giving her the exact same symptoms that indigestion does, she wills herself to ignore it.

To no one’s surprise, they win their game. And when they embrace each other in a group hug, Korra has the sense to keep her arms above the waist (this time).

### PART IV: THE MOTH AND THE FLAME

Korra contemplates putting together a fancy outfit for the date, but half-way through digging into her closet, she realizes, fuck it, she’s the Avatar. If that can’t get her any play, then no fancy dress will. 

So she dons her usual threads and boards the ferry at Air Temple Island. She and Mako had settled on meeting at the pier at dusk, and sure enough, she sees a familiar figure clad in gray give her a small wave as the boat nears the mainland.

She waves enthusiastically back, not even waiting for the ferry to dock properly and instead leaping onto the wooden dock. Mako’s sporting a nervous grin and holding up a bouquet. The moment she stops in front of him, he awkwardly thrusts it into her hands.

“So, flowers. Oh, wow, thank you. They’re beautiful.” She sniffs them, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And hides her giggle by pressing her face further into the petals. _I guess he really is serious about this date._ And here she was, musing the idea of hauling him back onto the ferry, dragging him to her bed and have her wicked way with him.

_Patience, Korra. Like Tenzin always said. Though imagine what he’d say if he knew you were applying his words to a situation like this one…_

Only then does she realizes that Mako’s been talking for a while with her not listening.

“--Firelilies. Sorry, I don’t know if you were allergic, I should’ve asked—“

“Relax, cool guy. I love them.” Despite her assurance, Mako still looks sheepish. But the grimace morphs into the soft smile he’s been using on Korra a lot lately. She smiles back. Yeah, she misses the terrified look on his face, but this sticky sentimental sap is the real Mako and she doesn’t mind wading through it to get to the good parts. 

“So I figure Bolin and you already staked your claim at Narook’s. I chose a different place that you might like. I haven’t eaten there yet myself, but word is it’ll knock your socks off.” Korra wisely refrains from making a comment about not being the one who’ll be losing articles of clothing by the end of the night. 

“I can’t wait. Well, lead the way.” And in a sweet gesture of her own, she presses herself to Mako’s side and clings to his upper arm. They depart, making their way downtown. She cranes her neck and looks at the stars already glinting overhead.

_Starting this second,_ she tells herself. _I have about two hours to convince Mako to come home with me. And then another thirty minutes to get him to let me do him my way._ For now, though, she’s already enjoying the show. The point is accentuated as she grips his arm a bit tighter, marveling at the muscle definition concealed under the sleeves of his jacket. It’s nothing compared to hers (of course), but it’s still pretty damn impressive.

They arrive at a corner restaurant not far from their meeting point. There’s a line of people mulling near the front door, but Korra’s more drawn to the name flashing above in bold, black and white letters.

“Wow, never thought two firebenders would want to visit a place called ‘Eclipse’.” She elbows him for good measure, but Mako is more engrossed with weaving around the bustling crowd. He leads Korra inside, and she can’t help but ogle.

Aside from the fact that almost everything is black and white, the Fire Nation influence is immediately noticeable at first glance. A huge dragon lamp twists its way around the room, and there are various glass displays between booths, showcasing the traditional weapons that were used during the war.

“The day of black sun,” Korra can’t help but murmur, and she clutches Mako and sort of tugs at his collar like a kid wanting to be noticed, because he’s damn tall and she’s damn excited. “You really _are_ a history buff, aren’t you? You big nerd.” 

He shrugs and grins. “I like reading?”

Before she can annoy him some more, a waiter dressed as a traditional Fire Nation soldier approaches them. The theme’s getting to be bit of an overkill at this point, but Korra just bites her lip.

“Ah, Avatar Korra, and of course, Sir Mako—“ He even does the traditional bow, or tries anyway, since his fist is against his open palm rather than under it. “—Follow me to your table, please.”

They’re seated at a booth next to a painted wall. Korra glances her menu for a bit, baffled by the choices. Grilled Urchinstar, Roasted Turtleduck Wing, Grilled Komodo Steak, Fried Flamefish, Grilled Cowpig… The Fire Nation sure loved to char things. Figures.

“Weird. That guy seemed to recognize me quicker than usual...” Mako’s gaze leaves the menu and softens as he meets her eyes.

“Well, I, uh—“ he looks around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. The habit of his is so familiar that Korra almost expects another confession about a shady act he’d committed in the past. “I sort of, told them that the Avatar was coming here. Because the first time, they wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I don’t think they hand out reservations freely.” He hesitates. “Sorry.” The way he’s so jittery about everything has her laughing. She doesn’t even know what he’s so apologetic about – to be namedropped constantly was one of the many good things about being the Avatar.

“That’s totally fine. Maybe they only let you in if you’re dating a human relic such as myself?”

“Um…”

“Chill. For spirits’ sake, I’m just teasing! But could you maybe do the ordering? I just realized I don’t think I’ve tried Fire Nation grub before.” Mako’s eyes get wide, as if she just insulted his lineage. 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Raised in a compound and all that.” And then Mako does a very smooth, un-Mako-like thing by suddenly sliding his hand on top of hers at the center of the table. She can feel the cloth of his glove, and yet, it does nothing to curb the warmth radiating from his palm to her knuckles.

“Well,” he says, very seriously, before breaking into one of his soft smiles. And cocks his head for good measure, the talented bastard. “I guess tonight’s a night for firsts, right?”

“Oh, it’ll be full of firsts, alright…” She practically sighs back. Even though she’s most entertained by the nervous, clumsily romantic, overbearingly inoffensive Mako, she’s honestly liking this Mako too. And she also likes the Mako that argues with her and digs his face into his hand adorably when he’s at the end of his rope. It’s odd, because she’s filing Mako’s little personality quirks now and she doesn’t even recall even noticing them before. She likes all of the above Makos, apparently, but she thinks her favorite will be the one screaming her name and begging her to go faster—

\--But, that’s a thought for a later time. Guiltily, she looks away, and finds herself staring at the design on the wall. It’s more of a doodle than anything, black brush strokes on wall-sized parchment.

“A recreation of the famous post-war painting of Councilman Sokka,” Mako offers, stroking her hand, and it feels weird because Korra’s suddenly getting indigestion again with the way her stomach is churning. She tries to ignore it.

The painting… Frankly doesn’t look too appealing.

“Well, the message behind it is nice. And it was nice of him to include a lemur.”

“I think that’s supposed to be Katara?” They’re both squinting at the painting now.

“Really? Then who’s—wait, why is Zuko holding a fan while firebending?”

“I think that’s Lady Suki?”

“ _Firebending_?” She says with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. They burst into laughter at that, and Korra registers the sudden loss of Mako’s hand on hers, and tries not to be too bummed about it.

“If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought they commissioned Bolin to make this.” Korra laughs again, and stares, fascinated, as Mako absently traces the outline of the air bison (it looks more like a horned worm). She never noticed how long his fingers were, slender like the rest of him. And for a laborer, even his nails look neat(er than hers). You’d think lightning-bending so often would give you singed fingers, but apparently not.

And the thing is, that was another Mako thing, to recover so fast that no one ever realizes you were marked in the first place. Unlike Korra, who appears to wallow in her errors, tripping and stumbling until the referee accuses her of playing while under the influence, he snaps back to his original, aloof self in a flash. Even after the most embarrassing of incidents. 

How many times has he faceplanted in probending? An awful lot, and Korra’s seen even the worst fuck-ups, especially memorized the ones where he accidentally ends up crouched on all fours, ass up. But in typical Mako fashion he just fluxes into his typically cool exterior every time, standing straight with shoulders thrown back and a hand on his hip. Like he _didn’t_ just slip from a wayward water shot that doused the floor, and ended up decorating himself with bruises. Like nothing ever happened, he’s back to being the coolest fucker in the ring and everyone instantly forgets.

She’s only realizing now how much she’s noticed about him apart from his other... Desirable assets.

_All this just from waxing poetry about his fingers?_

The waiter places a bowl of fire flakes as an appetizer. Korra downs fistfuls of them, doing her best to ignore the sensation of her throat being fried from the inside out. She’s been stupid all day today, how could she forget that Fire Nation loved their food spicier than Ozai’s burning asshole?

“Hey, Mako?”

“Hmm?” 

“Er—“ She stops to fan her own mouth. Without missing a beat, Mako flags down the waiter to order some milk.

“It’ll chase away the heat,” he says as the waiter gives her a glassful. The same remedy must have worked on Bolin countless times. Mako could be such an all-knowing parent sometimes that it’s still within the ‘attractive’ spectrum but also almost bordering into ‘creepy’. 

“Anyway.” She clunks down her empty glass, no longer feeling like she just swallowed the Boiling Rock. “So, who was your favorite Team Avatar member? I mean, c’mon… _Everyone_ has one.” And while Mako’s deep in thought, she tries to wipe off her milk moustache as discreetly as possible. “Lemme guess. Zuko. Because you’re both firebenders and you’re both ho—um, brooding guys.”

There’s a hazy look in Mako’s eyes now, a memory playing in his mind. “When I used to play on the streets with my friends, they always made me be Zuko. And they’d coat half of my face in mud and make me run around screaming _‘Honor!’_ for hours. My mom would scold me saying it was disrespectful to his legacy. That without his reformations, she never would’ve met my dad and had us.”

“Smart mom.”

“Yeah...” Korra notices the way he touches his scarf absently when talking about his parents. There’s another pause as the waiter presents them with their roasted turtleduck. She busies herself her chopsticks, already snatching pieces here and there and tossing them into her mouth. Mako’s just sort of watching her do it, and she’s almost feeling self-conscious about her sloppy eating habits. Almost. 

She struggles out words despite her full mouth. “An’ oo’d Bolin be?” 

“Oh, he loved Sokka. Beaned me in the head a couple of times with a hanger that he christened into a boomerang.”

Korra swallows, and can’t help but make a face. “Classic Bolin.”

“The one and only,” Mako says, throwing out a sigh that spells out equal parts exasperation and adoration.

“Buuuuut you still haven’t answered my question. So who _is_ your favorite?”

He’s in the middle of cutting up his chicken when he pauses to contemplate the answer. There’s a bit of an awkward silence then, causing her to fidget on her side of the booth. She almost wants to call his attention back to her by lifting her leg under the table and pressing her boot against his crotch. She doesn’t know exactly what that would accomplish, but…

“Probably… Katara.”

“Wha—Really?” She almost drops her chopsticks in surprise. “That makes no sense and yet… Strangely enough, it does?”

“I always thought it was incredible, the way she left her home, traveled the world with the Avatar, was a healer _and_ an offensive fighter, and took care of her brother. And that was just during the war, not to mention everything she did afterward. I mean, that’s just amazing to me.”

“She is! I could take you to meet her. I bet she’d _love_ you.”

“One date at a time, Korra.” Was it just her, or did Mako just _wink_? And why is her stomach backflipping?

“Oh—well, what’s Team Avatar without awesome adventures like that?”

“I’m looking forward to them.” They fall silent once more, both focusing on the clattering of their chopsticks against their plates. Mako wipes at his lips with a table napkin ( _Wait, there are table napkins?_ ). Korra thinks about how amazing it would be if they took a leaf out of the original Team Avatar’s book and traveled around the world. Then she’d get to be around Mako all the time. They’d be fucking like crazy, like Sokka and Suki. And maybe Sokka and Toph, because the rumors _must_ have come from somewhere.

Wait, Toph was twelve. Nevermind.

But Mako is very much _not_ twelve, and neither is she. They’re both teenagers with a healthy sexual appetite, and they’d need to de-stress from time to time after all the traveling. Maybe the Team Avatar orgy rumors were true as well. But that’d be impossible in her case, because Bolin is Mako’s little brother and he’s her little bro, too. So, she figures, at some point, they’d have to stop by the Northern Water Tribe to buy Bolin the best earmuffs money can buy, so he won’t complain…

Before her whims can manage to reach an entirely new level of indecency, Mako’s next words bring her back down to earth.

“So, what about you? Who was your favorite? I mean, aside from the obvious…”

Frankly, she’s surprised he even asked. He’s right: _everyone_ would assume she’s all about her previous life. Except truthfully, she isn’t. And she hasn’t told anyone else yet, ever, but might as well now.

“Well, everyone expects me to say Aang, and I guess I’d have to agree. I wouldn’t be here without him. But truthfully, I’ve always admired Sokka. He did _so many_ things, it’s like he decided if he couldn’t bend, he’d learn how to do just about everything else, and he succeeded. He never let non-bending unmake him.”

### INTROMISSION: THE LEGEND OF SOKKA

Korra met Sokka only a handful of times before his untimely passing, but he was every bit as the legends described – a jack of all trades, pseudo-master in some. He once taught her how to swing a sword, tie her own hair, maneuver a boat and write poetry… All at once, while they were on said boat, lost in the middle of the ocean because he’d been trying to show her the basics of cartography.

One of his finer achievements that eluded her, however, was one she wasn’t supposed to know about. But it just so happened she’d been eavesdropping when a bunch of White Lotus guards had cornered Sokka and were frantically asking for advice.

They’d called it the _Kama Sokka_ and constantly demanded for copies. It was, apparently, a book that he had written. It was also, unfortunately, not appropriate for anyone under the age of forty-three. Based on the way the guards worshipped it, Korra had deduced that it was some sort of manual for sex. Furthermore, for _all different kinds of sex._

Probably including the one she would be trying tonight.

She’d searched for it in the compound library, only to come up empty-handed. When she moved to Air Temple Island, she even checked Tenzin’s private bookshelf (taking the chance that she’d never see him the same way again if she _did_ find it there). But whatever the Kama Sokka really was, it was definitely in short supply. And knowing Sokka, he had purposely meant for it to be that way.

Tonight, maybe she can start writing an edition of her own. And when she and Mako travel the world on their sexpeditions they’ll be sure to keep it updated – constantly. But unlike Sokka, she’ll unveil it to the world, and such an important contribution to modern society could instantly land Mako a 50-foot-tall monument fittingly placed in Republic City’s red light district, with the inscription on his plaque reading “Mako, Official Avatar Fuckee”, or if they want to sound classier, “Courtesan” or whatever. Built to honor his contributions in providing her with decades of sexual satisfaction.

Sokka would be proud.

### PART V: WHAT I DID FOR LOVE

“You know,” Mako pipes up, his voice snatching Korra right out of her reverie. He’s rubbing his chin with an exaggerated flare as he stares at the painting again. “Right now I’m starting to question his title ‘artist’, though, I mean, this looks like the work of a toddler, not a teenager.”

Her laugh in response is an octave too high and a decibel too loud. “Tell me about it! You should try reading his maps.”

Placing an elbow on the table, Mako rests his chin on his hand now and his gaze toward Korra turns intense. She almost shudders under it, unsure of how to react when _she’s_ the one fixated on for a change. But Mako smiles. Her obvious fretting must amuse him the same way she gets off on his bashfulness.

“Good meal?”

“Are you insane?” It’s not like she meant to slam her fists on the table that hard, but now people are looking so she lowers her voice by a fraction. “Of course it was! Fire Nation cuisine really is something else. I’ve never had meat that spicy.”

“You up for dessert?”

“I should be asking _you_ that. I’m not watching my weight, but you’re the stick, here.”

“Stick?” He repeats, one eyebrow raised. “You talk about me like I’m _scrawny_ when you’ve already seen my—“ She knows that the ‘apartment invasion’ incident is flashing before his eyes, too, and she has to hold in a laugh when he reddens immediately and falls silent. _This is why I’m always challenging you, always poking your shell,_ she thinks, smirking as he buries his face into his palm. _Because you look so cute when you resist_.

“Anyway.” She claps her hands together like an otter penguin as the waiter presents their dessert. She quickly steals one of the teaspoons and starts digging in. “Eat up, city boy. Get some meat in you. Or… Whatever this is.”

“It’s fried ice cream,” Mako grumbles, accepting the other spoon.

“How do you _fry_ ice cream? It’s ice cream!” she’s already decimated the top, having carved a dent right on the mound that’s supposed to be their shared dessert. 

“It’s actually pretty easy. You just need bread crumbs and—“ 

“Hold on, you know how to make this?” Mako can cook. Oh, yeah. More reason they’d make a perfect couple, though she’s not sure why she’s starting to see herself and Mako as a _couple_. Must be all the lovey-dovey pheromones Mako’s emitting, or something.

“Like I said, it’s not hard. I’ve made it for Bolin a lot.” 

“This is something else. You _have_ to make it for me. As the Avatar, I hereby demand—“ Mako shoves a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and she makes muffled sounds in protest, glaring at the smirking firebender. 

Okay, okay. She’s learned her lesson. Bolin’s advice swims to the forefront of her mind once more. _Right. Let him hand control over to you. Or else he’ll keep trying to snatch it back._

\--

“Really, thanks for the meal, Mako. It was great. And the company wasn’t half-bad either.”

“It was fun. Nice to leave the ring behind every once in a while.” The cool night air immediately hits their faces as they leave the restaurant, and Korra uses it as an excuse to snuggle up to Mako again. She feels him stiffen as he realizes what he just said.

“Uh, that came out wrong. I shouldn’t—I wasn’t even thinking about probending but now I sound like an idiot.”

“Damn right you do—“ but before she can rib him some more, he whirls around to face her and she doesn’t even have a chance to erase the confident (dumb) expression on her face when he does it.

Mako kisses her. _Mako_ kisses _her_. Korra’s mind momentarily shuts down from the shock of him being on the offensive for once. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. It’s far different from their first kiss at the gym, which now, she realizes guiltily, was simply her means to an end. This is completely unlike it. 

Mako’s hands sweep around her waist, pulling her against his chest, and his lips are melting into hers. Back then, she was doing the makeout equivalent of strangling your prey until it asphyxiated. But Mako is pouring himself into her, just like he’s been doing all night, with the dinner and the sweet-talking (which should’ve been just weird, but it was both weird and somehow great).

Korra finally responds when she grabs his shoulders and opens her mouth, surging back against his tongue with her own. She hums while tilting her head slightly, so they fit together better. A grateful rumble sounds from Mako’s throat, and she wants to hear more of that. She wants to _feel_ it, so her hand moves to his nape and tugs him closer. Nevermind that she has to teeter on the tiptoes of her boots to do so. Mako’s keeping a steady grasp on her waist anyway.

Being who she is, Korra still isn’t content with this. It’s not enough, to be making out torridly with someone on the first date. On a random public corner for anyone to see. At an early time of night when even babies are probably still awake. Though it’s thrilling being able to ignore the occasional honks from passing satomobiles. She’d flip them off if she could, but right now, being this attached to Mako takes first priority.

So she tries something out when a really unique idea pops into her head. Her eyes were already closed, but she further squeezes them shut and focuses all her energy on the tingling sensation in her throat. It’s pretty much the same as creating firebreath, though right now she has to maintain absolute control to suppress the flame threatening to ignite. The brewing warmth is already filling her mouth. All she needs is a little spark.

It works. She feels the slightest crackle, sends it zipping into Mako’s mouth like a shot. The firebender gasps when he feels it, tipping his head back in surprise. Korra’s lips are still wet when his leave them. He touches his mouth with his fingertips, and Korra lets out a breathy laugh at the sight. His lips are emitting white smoke, and she’s sure hers are doing the same judging from the warmness still tingling there.

“That felt… What was _that?_ ” Mako croaks, the gold in his eyes brighter than ever. Korra smirks, reveling in the fact that she’s gotten him to turn crimson again.

“Just a little firebending trick that I’ve always wanted to try.”

There’s a smile playing on his lips now, too, and he cocks his eyebrow at her. “Do I even want to know where you learned it?”

“Mm, maybe not?”

“Korra…” his voice sounds rough and scratchy when he says her name, and she loves that she made it that way, that she can even leave her marks on something as abstract as his words.

“Yeah?”

“We should…“ He’s running a hand through his hair. Meaning he’s frustrated, or worried, and maybe this doesn’t bode well.

“We should what?” Mako takes a deep breath and gazes at her with just as much intensity as she’s giving back.

“…Your place or mine?”

_Oh, right._ The moment screeches to a halt. A wave of bliss fills her head so fast at that that it almost stings.

_Fuck._ Excitement is bleeding into her veins at the very thought. Images flash. She remembers. _Right. The fucking. How could I forget?_

“Do you really…”

He nods. “Positive.”

“Mine. Definitely mine.” She feels light-headed. The sensation of smashing through those spinning wooden gates comes to mind. She’s seeing stars. Stars and naked Makos.

“Is it—“

“Air Temple Island residents sleep at, like, dusk.”

“Okay…” And he grabs her hand tightly. “Lead the way.” His voice cracks at the last syllable. She says nothing about that.

\--

They take the ferry back and are in the process of walking (sneaking) to her room when the unexpected happens. Tenzin (of course) is doing his nightly rounds when he spots them. Korra and Mako freeze as they see the airbender approaching from the other direction. It’s too late. He recognizes them immediately. _There it goes. We’re doomed,_ Korra thinks. She’s now going to spend the rest of the night sobbing, alone and sexless on her untouched bed.

But rather than chastise them, Tenzin stops. He grows white as a sheet. He looks from Korra, to Mako, to Korra. Then he turns heel and promptly leaves, disappearing back around the corner.

“I thought you said everyone here sleeps at _dusk_!” Mako hisses, staring at Tenzin’s fast retreating form. 

“Everyone _except_ Tenzin. Good thing he just, uh, walked away.”

“He must hate me. Probably thinks I’m… Corrupting you.”

Korra tries not to laugh. The embarrassment of her previous awkward encounter with Tenzin comes bubbling back up. “Believe me. It’s not _my_ virtue he’s worried about.”

She leads him into her room and locks the door behind them. The click of the doorknob is too loud, her room suddenly feels far too small. Her hands might even be shaking. But she moves to sit down on her bed, patting the spot next to her a bit awkwardly as Mako gazes curiously at their surroundings. 

Right, he’s never been to her room before. But there’s really not much to see. Just a bed, a closet, a drawer. Thankfully, Mako’s not the type to snoop – if he were, opening the drawer would be a premature death sentence for what could have been their sex life. In that drawer, he’d find her creation. And like any normal guy, he would get traumatized by the sheer sight of it. Then he’d jump, screaming, out the window, and then probably flee into the dark night, never to be seen or heard from again.

But Mako’s not like any normal guy, is he? And she’s been betting on that possibility all night, and the answer is leaning more and more in her favor. It’s not like they’ve been doing some weird power struggle, trying to wrestle submission from each other like she expected – no, Mako’s been talking to her, agreeing with her, keeping them both on equal footing. And he’s been taking in all of her insanity so far, and taking the time to understand her wants and needs.

Next thing she knows, Mako’s sitting on her bed, clasping her hands and gazing at her like he’s ready to propose. She’ll almost afraid he’ll do something crazy like that. Which is kind of ironic, considering she’s the one who’s been waiting to spring something on him for the longest time.

“Korra, are you sure you wanna keep going?”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? You’re the one who wanted things slow.”

Mako lets out a nervous laugh, one she’s never heard before. He shakes his head. “Look, I don’t know _what_ I want anymore.” She’s not quite sure what he means by that, but…

“Hey.” She touches his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “If you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop, deal?”

“Deal.”

They don’t stop – if anything, they move at the twice the speed. Korra’s not sure when their boots come off, how her hairties end up rolling under the bed. At some point, Mako’s coat is stripped from his shoulders and bunched around his waist and both their shirts are strewn on the floor. Long, pale fingers are trailing down the straps of her brassiere, but she’s employing every trick she’s got to keep Mako trapped against the headboard, his back leaning on it as she conquers him with her tongue.

It’s like a repeat of the apartment incident – she’s smiling at the realization of having so many of these Mako-related incidents to draw from memory – with her straddling his lap, able to feel exactly how hard he is. Only this time, she finally has permission to have him. She makes sure to enjoy every second of it, enjoying the sensation of their tongues languidly brushing together as they share kiss after kiss.

“How’s this for slow?” She whispers, tongue flicking at his lips playfully. 

His fingers have found their way under their straps, and are kneading dangerously close to her breasts. “S-still too slow.”

“Noted, Captain.”

“Korra…” Mako’s saying her name, and Korra considers it a real serious problem that he’s still not _moaning_ it yet. So she licks at his collarbone, frantically making the most of her time while she has unrestricted access to his chest. 

“Korra—“ Mako says, and it sounds a little bit better than last time because now at least his voice is slurring. She slowly travels upward, nibbling at his throat.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums absently. She’s made her way to his earlobe while he’s biting his lip, trying to suppress his groans. It doesn’t matter; she’ll wrangle them out of him sooner or later.

But before she can bite down on his ear, Mako grasps her face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes are darkened with lust, but that infuriating Mako frown has surfaced again. 

“Korra, do you wanna…?”

There’s a hitch in her breath. “Yeah.” 

“And I suppose… You wanna fuck me, right?”

She goes rigid.

“…What? _What did you just say?_ ”

\--

“Korra—“ _Plan failed. Abortabortabort--_

She throws herself off him, backing up until she’s put enough space between them – this was stupid, stupid _stupid_ from the very start. It was all one big joke and apparently she was the victim all along. Dread circulates within her like sludge, replacing all the blood in her veins. Rejection has never weighed so heavy. She digs her face into her hands.

“Oh, fuck. You know. You knew this whole time.” 

“Korra…” She’s seriously fighting the urge to rip her hair out. _It was always a longshot. I was a fucking idiot and now Mako hates me and I deserve it._

“I’m just this creepy, nasty little girl who’s been obsessing over it and over you and scaring the shit out of you and now you must think I’m psychotic—“

“Korra!” Her hands are pulled away from her face, and she looks up to see Mako, inches away. He keeps a firm grip on her wrists, though the look in his eyes remains gentle.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He’s not smiling, but he’s not mad either, and now she’s just terribly confused.

“…How?” She manages to rasp out.

“Bolin.”

_I’m gonna kill him_. She groans. “That _fucker_ —“

“—Is my brother,” he interrupts, the corners of his lips twitching. “Hear me out.”

### INTROMISSION: THE LEGEND OF BOLIN

“Hey Mako,”

“Hey, Bo… Why are you smiling like that?” Sigh. “I suppose you already know that Korra and I are going on a date?”

“A date. Oh, yeah, _sure_. A _date_. Is that what they call it these days? Just one of those things. Wining and dining, eh? Like a true gentleman. _Dating._ ”

“What’s up with you?”

“Mako, Mako, Mako… Brothers can talk about absolutely anything, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Out of curiosity, I was just wondering… Without an ulterior motive or anything… It sort of just came to my mind right now, a random whim, if you will, that I suddenly wanted to ask you—“

“Get on with it, bro.”

“Have you ever been interested in being the receiver in penetrative anal sex?”

“WHAT!”

(Later)

“…So for the last time, I’m not gay.”

“Okay, Bolin.”

“Seriously, I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were gay or straight, Bo.”

“You wouldn’t? That’s great. But I’m not gay. Just making it clear—“

“ _I get it._ ”

“So anyway, when we finally get this Team Avatar thing off the ground, I call dibs on Sokka because we’re both cool and funny and popular with the ladies. But you know what that makes you? Toph.”

“…Why am I Toph?”

“Because you’re going to do a lot of sleeping around, I mean, Sokka _and_ Zuko?”

“Zuko?”

“Where do you think ol’ Lin came from, huh?”

“Bolin. Zuko is _not_ Chief Beifong’s father.”

“Oh, come on! It’s obvious! Lin has a scar. You know who also has a scar?”

“…Clearly, I raised you wrong…”

“Well, whatever happens, just know I love you, alright? Don’t forget about me. Except when you guys are actually doing it, because ew, talk about inappropriate, but I mean, bros before dil—“

“SHUT UP.”

“Ow! Anyway, have fun on your date. Tell me all about it sometime, but just skip the sex part. Unless it’s really _really_ good. I might even try it, but y’know, I’m not gay. Sometimes I may get curious but… Okay, bye!”

“…Am I the ONLY one here who’s ever cracked open a history book?”

### PART VI: THE DRILLING CONCLUSION

He sweeps a hand through his hair. That action, coupled with the fact that he’s still very much shirtless on his bed, leaves Korra equally confused and horny as hell. She shifts uncomfortably, not sure which emotion to go with yet. She never counted on _this_ happening, and from this point onward, she’s flying blind. 

“So… Yeah. After Bolin reaffirmed his heterosexuality about fifty more times, I started thinking.”

“About how he might be gay?”

“No, but there’s an idea. Anyway, I wondered what the hell I should do. Because let’s be clear: this is really not something you hear about everyday.” Korra looks away, embarrassment seeping into her chest. “But I figured, that if I were to try something crazy, it’d have to be for someone I have really strong feelings for. So I took a long shower and, while I was in there, I… Practiced.”

“Practiced what?” He bites his lip at first, hesitant to answer.

He takes a deep breath.

“Doing what you want me to do.” 

_Is he admitting he…? Stop it, Mako. You’re making me even more attracted to you. Stop teasing me with things I can’t have. Stop saying things you’d only say in my darkest fantasies._ She feels woozy. There’s a balloon rapidly inflating inside her head, ready to pop any second.

“And? H-how did it feel?”

His voice comes out strangely, in a pitch higher than normal. “Weird. Painful.” She blanches. “I didn’t… I had _no_ idea what I was doing and I’m pretty sure whatever it was, I was doing it wrong.” Even Mako realizes how odd he sounds, so he clears his throat. And coughs, blushing deeply.

“But then I thought of you.” he’s the one who looks panicky now, stammering and making vague gestures with his hands. “And I suppose that was enough to get me going?”

Korra realizes how dry her throat has gotten. She swallows – or tries to, anyway – but it turns into a weird honking cough because her body is apparently incapable of doing two things at once. Or her brain is just too preoccupied with picturing Mako in the shower, his head buried in the crook of his arm as he leans against the tiles, other hand slowly inching downward, settling between his parted thighs. And he’s moaning her name as he explores himself in new and wonderful ways, jets of water keeping his skin soaking wet—

“Mako,” she says in a strangled voice, unable to control herself any longer. It’s finally hitting her that he wants this. Maybe not as much as she does, but he’s more than willing to try. “How… How many fingers did you use…?”

“Er—“ They’re chest to chest now, Korra having drawn herself nearer. Now she’s close enough to see the pulse in his throat as his breath hitches, and she can count his eyelashes while he entrances her with a heavy-lidded stare. “Two or three?”

“Holy shit, that is _hot_.” Who knew talking about your recent masturbation techniques could serve as the greatest foreplay ever? Mako flushes even more, and inexplicably crosses his arms over his chest as he averts his gaze. It’s a weird and nonsensical thing to do because one, it’s not like he can cover much of his body at all and two, he’s showing embarrassment only _now_ after describing at length the manner in which he fingered himself. And Korra has to keep from giggling, because seriously, Mako is really one of a kind and that’s a big part of why she’s in love with him.

_In love, huh,_ pipes up the rational part of her brain, only now having caught up with her internal rambling. And then, she tilts her head in realization, staring at the firebender who’s looking more jittery by the second, and everything clicks. So the official diagnosis for all the bellyaches she’s been having lately is… Love and feelings. _So Mako’s made me see things his way without even trying_.

“So, are you saying… You’re gonna let me—“

“Dammit, Korra,” he snaps, and pulls her close so he can kiss her fiercely. “I’m not _letting_ you do anything to me. I _want_ this. We both do. Just… Do I have to give you explicit permission? Please don’t make me say it.”

“Uh,” Korra responds, still breathless and reeling. He’s glaring at her, or trying to, anyway, because there’s that familiar glint dancing in his eyes again. “Okay, okay. Okay.” She’s babbling. “Uh, lemme get—“

She reaches over to the drawer. She rattles the knob, once, twice, thrice. It’s stuck for a moment. Her hand is suddenly shaking for reasons she hopes aren’t medical. Finally, the drawer opens and she feels around for her creation and a bottle of oil.

Unexpectedly, she feels something soft and frowns. Mako curiously looks over, and so does she, and she realizes what she almost pulls out is—

“Um,” Mako says. “That looks a lot like my—“

“It’s nothing,” she says quickly, taking out what she needs and slamming the drawer shut. The urge to stab herself is rising. She had completely forgotten that she’d stashed Mako’s underwear. What kind of weirdo was Bolin to give it to her anyway?!

She didn’t imagine it would be this awkward. It should’ve gone smoother, because she had run the scenario in her mind hundreds of times. It was supposed to be a step by step process. Step 1: convince him to do it. Step 2: whip it out. Step 3: stick it in. Step 4: yell as many variations of “Take it!” as she can come up with. Simple.

But it’s turned into an awkward show and tell session and now all she can do is fiddle with it in her hands, running her fingers around the artfully-crafted tip. But it’s not like she can admit that it’s her masterpiece or anything, or describe the amount of perverted conjecturing that went into deciding on the precise dimensions of the shaft. So she waits for Mako’s reaction.

He’s just… Staring at it. With really, really wide eyes. And he swallows.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too…” 

“Too what?” _Shiny? Metallic? This was the easiest alloy I could metalbend without it disintegrating from the constant shapeshifting…_

“…Big.”

“What? It looks fine.” Mako’s facepalming is not a good sign. Plus his face is _really really_ red now, the shade looking less like a blush and more like hyperthermia. 

“And,” she adds, frustration seeping into her voice. “I can change the size and shape whenever I want, anyway. See?” She demonstrates by making the device hover over her hands, squeezing the metal to have a thinner, longer look, the excess parts rippling back toward the clamp area. Then, she makes it look thicker, and shorter, and rotates it. “I can even add these,” she adds excitedly, creating grooves, then domes, then ridges on the shaft.

Maybe she’s being too much of a show-off, or maybe she’s being too forward again. Or both. In any case, the only thing her demonstration manages to do is cause Mako’s eyebrows to climb so high that they’re at serious risk of fusing into his hairline. He’s still gawking, and she can only imagine the frenetic calculations going on in his head as he tries to figure out how much he can take and that’s hot and all but she’s getting really impatient.

“It’s not going to fit,” he finally declares. The levitating metal drops into her lap.

“It will.” She doesn’t understand why he keeps spouting cliché lines from those porn serials she pretends not to have read. Her creation is perfect.

He sighs. “Korra…”

It’s time to play dirty. She drops the metal onto the bed, then reaches for her straps and slowly loosens her brassiere. When it’s off, she tosses it. Sure enough, Mako’s protests abruptly die and he is rendered speechless, already hypnotized by the sight of her breasts. She grasps his wrist and guides his hand to one of her nipples and his breathing quickens as he squeezes gently.

She inches closer, slowly wrapping her arms around his shoulders, making sure her chest is pressed right up against his. His entire body tenses up. She can feel his quick intakes of breath against her shoulder.

“Look, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” She whispers in his ear. “I’ve got the prep part down and I’ll make sure we’ll both feel good. Trust me?”

“Okay,” Mako mumbles into her neck. “Just nervous.”

“Don’t be.” _So am I_.

So she distracts him with another bout of kissing. Focused, she keeps her eyes shut as she pushes further and further, nudging Mako back with every caress. He’s doing the same to her skin, mapping out the contours of her body. He seems to really love her boobs, though the sudden enthusiasm of his hands is not really too surprising.

When he tweaks a nipple, a switch is flipped on somewhere in her, and she becomes distinctly aware of how wet she’s getting. With that in mind, the rest of their clothing now feels like nothing more than a bunch of restrictive barriers. “Mmph,” she groans, pulling back from their kiss. Mako’s lips are slightly parted and his eyes widen in surprise as she grabs hold of the waistband of her pants and shucks them off.

The last of her underwear soon follows and Mako reaches for her like a kid trying to swipe at candy. She just snorts and pushes him back so she can get to work ripping off his belt, followed by his bunched up jacket. They join the growing heap on the floor and she moves on to his trousers, sliding her hands down his hips until she can feel the band of his underwear beneath his pants. She tugs, hard and rough. Mako’s thrown back by the motion and ends up on his back as she determinedly tries to wrestle the last of his clothes off.

“Hey—“ he finally protests, but she’s already tugging everything down past his knees and with one final wrench, he’s left truly naked, laying on her bed sheet and she can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs. His knees are bent, clamped together defiantly, feet planted on the bedspread as he’s still battling with the last ounce of shyness he possesses. She chuckles and positions herself into a kneeling position. Her arms rest on his knees and she leers right down at him.

Upon being able to glimpse his entire body, Korra has the sudden urge to throw up her hands in prayer. _Praise the Fire Nation for producing such a fine-looking specimen._ Turns out the prominent muscles running down his pelvis really do point straight to his dick, which is a thing of beauty in its own right. It’s already erect, springing to demand for attention but she’s already decided that that has to wait. Maybe later, when she’s feeling generous.

The room is dark without any light, and she’d really appreciate having a better view, so she conjures a myriad of fireballs to float above them. After that, she waterbends the oil out of the bottle and has it levitate in a slowly spinning ring. Summoning the metal with her mind, she hovers it high enough for Mako to see.

He sighs. “Yes, Korra, I get it. Your Avatar skills are one of a kind.” His tone is so dry that she can’t control the giggle that comes out, and almost drops the elements as a result. Showing off her bending is a side of her that’s constantly reared its head and Mako’s probably the only person who’s never been impressed. _Not once_. It was once infuriating; now it’s refreshing.

“So what do I do?” Mako asks, blinking. He’s straining his neck trying to look at her properly. She caresses his bare hip, fishing for her pillow with the opposite hand.

“Lift them up for a bit,” she says, and Mako complies so she can slide the pillow underneath his pelvis.

“Now just lay back.” She strokes his chest. The rope of oil stops circling mid-air and Korra weaves it around her hand, forming a glove. 

“And think of Republic City?”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you won’t be thinking _at all_ \-- oops.” A bit of oil splatters on the sheets but she decides to shrug it off. Mako, who’s apparently decided to stare up at the ceiling all night, doesn’t notice. His entire body is stiff to the touch and she has to wrench his knees apart. At that, he finally reacts, making a small protesting noise, but afterward goes quiet again.

The pillow makes the angle perfect, and she has no trouble (thanks to a touch of bending) spreading the oil into him first. And admittedly, she gets a little too excited after that, because a few seconds later, she’s pushing into his hole with two slippery fingers (the same way she imagined _him_ doing). She only realizes her mistake when she feels a full-body cringe emanating from him. From the inside out, no less.

“Sorry, did I—“ 

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, all gritted teeth and furrowed brows. “Not so…” She doesn’t hear the rest of it because she’s feeling antsy now, seeing him in pain. _Maybe if I slide it faster, he won’t feel it as much._ So she thrusts her fingers deeper, working the lubricant in.

Suddenly Mako lets out a cry, and to both of their dismay it’s definitely _not_ a cry of pleasure. He’s sweating all over now and his breathing is getting labored. This is nothing like what Korra pictured, and inside she’s kicking herself _again_ because she’s supposed to be pleasing him but she’s doing the opposite of what she promised. She had no idea he would be this _tight_ , and it should be perfect but it’s worrying knowing she’s only hurting him more. He’s squeezing around her fingers and that sheer amount of pressure she has to get past is most likely the problem. She doesn’t know how to keep forcing them in despite the resistance.

“Mako, _relax_. Control your breathing, I hear that helps,” she says gently.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you.” The added glower he’s cast in her direction only succeeds in making her more agitated.

“Hey, like you said, it’s not something you hear about everyday! But I did my research, and you have to _relax_ , seriously.” To his credit, he immediately does what he’s told, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply. She goes back to trying to lube him up, dragging her fingers slowly back and forth. The sight of her fingers moving in and out of him quickly is, admittedly, making her wetter. She struggles to put aside the growing heat. For now. 

She takes another stab at exploring his body, pushing her digits halfway to the knuckle, and Mako shifts uncomfortably at that. But he seems to be trying to get used to the protrusion because all she hears is a sigh, and more deep breaths.

Honestly, she’s a bit lost on what to do from here on. The “research” she mentioned involved eavesdropping on two male White Lotus sentries who were paid to keep secrets but seemed to be more engrossed in their own. They tended to drop heavy innuendo at each other about finding some sort of “spot”, one that would bring the receiver to an immediate state of ecstasy.

Now she’s just trying to do the same with Mako, though she’s beginning to realize that basing her plan of action on some dirty talk between horny guards might not have been the best way to go. _The Kama Sokka would have all the answers,_ Korra thinks bitterly, and, in a moment of desperation, mentally calls out for Aang. _Please, Aang, you probably watched Sokka write it, you probably even helped him and managed the revisions. I still can’t contact you but if you have any sympathy for your reincarnation, you WILL transmit your past Avatar knowledge on Kama Sokka to me, and I will be eternally grateful._

…

Nothing.

Korra’s about to declare him a huge fucking dick, until she looks up and sees the metal tool she’s made, and she recalls what she did to the souvenir monument carved lovingly in his image. And she suddenly understands why he’d never want to speak to her ever again.

_Well, I’m on my own…_ She tries a different angle, praying that that magical spot exists in boys and exists in _Mako_. _Dammit, Korra, try to look more knowledgeable about this and less like you’re looking for your keys._

“How’s it feel?” She asks, more to distract him than anything as she tries her best not to make it seem like she’s pushing random invisible buttons.

Mako sort of shrugs, cranes his neck to look at her doing Aang-knows-what between his legs. “Uh, okay? Doesn’t hurt as much.”

_Holy shit, this sucks. I suck._

She doesn’t know how much longer she can poke and prod before Mako gets fed up with her and decides to call it quits. But she doesn’t know what else to _do_. She has two fingers in almost buried to the knuckle and Mako may have loosened up (finally) but he’s treating this whole ordeal as a mild inconvenience at best rather than a mindblowing experience. Should she add another finger? Change the angle? Move on to the actual fucking?

_And now he’s not even hard,_ she thinks, ruefully eyeing his softening dick. _Why the fuck didn’t they teach me human anatomy in Avatar training camp?_

She drags her fingers back, and, because she can’t really think of anything else, sort of crooks them and thrusts them in again in one smooth motion. 

And apparently that does _something_ because Mako promptly goes from laying on her bed like a dead crabfish to full-on bucking in a heartbeat. His eyes fly open and he lets out a sharp gasp. A slow grin spreads across her face as she tries again.

This time, Mako actually throws his head back and his back arches, a moan escaping his lips. He pushes himself onto a sitting position and Korra barely has time to blink before a hand wraps around her wrist, despite her fingers still buried deep and in the process of coaxing pleasure out of him.

“Korra, e-enough, for today,” he pants, eyes wild and bright.

“What? But we’re finally getting somewhere.” She wiggles her fingers playfully and the grip on her wrist goes lax. His frantic expression instantaneously transforms into a stunned look and somehow that does the job increasing the moistness between her legs.

“It’s too—“

“Sensitive?”

He nods with a shake of his messy hair. It’s sticking out in all directions, and coupled with the half-lidded gaze aimed at her, means they’re both too far gone to stop.

“Oh, _really_?” Her tone is sickeningly-sweet as she pulls her fingers out, and then thrusts them in again fluidly. And that triggers the moan she’s been holding out for all this time, the one that sends heat right to her crotch. It’s low-pitched and long, with Mako releasing her wrist and collapsing back on the bed.

“Tell me you want me to stop.” She’s building up a rhythm, and there’s a lot less friction now that his body has gotten used to the intrusion. Her fingers slide in and out of his hole without resistance, hitting the same spots that are making him shake.

“Korra, I—“

“C’mon. Say it. I’ll stop if you want me to.” She fingerfucks him _harder_ and Mako’s eyes fly open and he gasps sharply. _I could do this forever._ Triumph is welling up in her from seeing him come undone just from her fingers.

“St—op?”

“Should I? Or are you just scared…” Her ministrations continue, digits probing without mercy. “Because deep down,” she says, drowning out the strangled noises coming from him. “--You didn’t think this would feel good _at all_ …” Her smirk widens as she spots the subtle change in his position. He’s spreading his legs wider of his own accord, and he’s hard once more, with pre-come brimming at the tip of his cock. 

“Right now I’m giving you the kind of pleasure you didn’t think was possible… But you know, if you insist I stop…” She ceases her movements and withdraws, fingers coming to rest on his thigh.

“ _So_ unfair,” Mako mutters, attempting a glare that gets her smirk widening. 

She shrugs, drumming her fingers against his leg. “I’m just doing what I was told.”

After a pause, he speaks in a low voice, one that’s practically a whisper. “K-keep going.”

Korra cocks her head. “Didn’t catch that. What did you say?” 

“I said… Continue.” The only way he could look more desperate were if the word was stamped on his forehead. “ _Please._ ”

“Alright. But only because you said so!”

“You’re _cruel--_ ah!” She adds a third finger this time. With every new exploration of Mako’s body, she’s carving her initials into every concavity and prominence, pressing down on every slot. Her mental Mako map is rapidly filling up with notes on even his most subtle reactions. _So this is where he likes it, so he likes it steady and deep, and the more he tries to hide the sounds he makes, the higher they get…_ By the end of the night, she’ll have him completely memorized.

Mako’s breathy noises dissipate into sighs as she hits target after target. His legs have lost their stiffness; now, they’re wobbling, jelly-like, and his eyes slide shut as he hums in appreciation when she drives in her fingers once more. He’s finally comfortable and the thought makes Korra smile, though maybe he’s a bit _too_ calm for her liking. And that means only one thing: time to take it to the next level.

“Mako, I’m going to strap it on now, okay?” She says, wrenching out her fingers and reaching for the metal. He immediately props himself up on his elbows to look at her. 

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got me covered.” She doesn’t know whether seismic sense has ever been used for this purpose, honestly. Her earthbending master, Haru, wasn’t even an expert at it. He himself had admitted that he only learned the basics under Toph’s tutelage. 

Korra closes her eyes and concentrates on the metal. It’s a lot like meditating, and she slows her breathing so that she can locate the device with her mind and wrap her senses around it until, without touching, the cold hard texture is palpable even in her head. She levitates it toward her, and soon she hears the telltale click of the clamps as they fasten snugly around her hips. 

Her hand moves to wrap around the base, and soon she lets out the breath of air she’d been holding. It’s _incredible_. She can feel the metal under her palm, but her seismic sense also has her feeling her own grip through the device, down to the rough pads of her fingers. The new tangible aspect of it is getting her wet, causing her breathing speeding up in excitement. It works. She’ll truly get to feel _everything_.

She opens her eyes to see Mako looking expectant. He’s not drooling over the sight of her wearing it or anything, but he’s still wide-eyed and flushed and has a head full of sex hair, so Korra’s unable to wait anymore. She lines up at his entrance after coating the device in oil. Mako flinches as she presses her hands against the inside of his thighs, forcing them further apart.

His body grows taut, the rise and fall of his chest more pronounced as she starts pushing, the tip sinking in but only just. He winces, subconsciously drawing himself away by edging backward. But Korra holds him in place, grip on him tightening as she places more weight on her knees, moving slowly, without hesitation.

“H-hurts,” Mako bites out. His face is scrunched up in discomfort, eyes shut with sweat gathering on his brow.

“I’m going as slow as I can, but…” The tip is not quite disappearing into his hole, but little by little, she’s urging it in and marveling at the sight of his body stretching around it.

“There!”

He cracks one eye open. “It’s… It’s in?”

“Well, the tip is.” 

“Just the tip?!” His cringe inadvertently causes him to tighten around the metal and Korra can’t help but groan upon feeling the sudden influx of pressure.

“I’ll narrow it, hold on…” _Sex shouldn’t require this much thinking and strategy_ , whines a voice in her head. _I always have to do things the hard way, don’t I?_ She directs her focus back on the shape of the metal, and adjusts the width. Afterward, she gives another experimental nudge.

“Fuck!” Mako’s outburst almost makes her jump.

“Still hurts?”

“For the love of— YES!” He’s practically clawing at his own hair, chest heaving as if he’s about to thrash. Panic quickly overtakes anticipation as she shouts back.

“But I prepared you and everything!”

“Yeah, with fingers the size of straws!” He lets out an exasperated sound, face still contorted in pain. “I feel like you’re trying to shove the city tower into me!”

She looks down. There’s still a lot of ground to cover, with most of the base still visible. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the rest in, right? Not like they can give up now…

So she changes her approach, and her words take on an encouraging tone as she gyrates again, closing the distance between her hips and the curves of his ass. “Just a bit more… Almost half-way!”

“HALF? Ow, ow, ow, slower… Slower!”

“Hold on -- you’re taking it so well… I’m practically there…” He’s straining around her with a force so great it makes her throw her head back and pant. Sweat is pooling on her neck and chest, the searing sensation in her nether regions so strong it almost hurts, leaving the insides of her thighs soaked. “You’re so tight, Mako, I can’t believe it,” she growls. “Tell me how it feels, talk to me.”

“This is insane.” It’s not quite ‘amazing’ or ‘the most pleasurable thing ever’ but she remains undeterred. She’s still not fully sheathed inside him and it’s only a matter of time before his tune changes, like earlier. “How can anyone even enjo- _OH!_ ” His sentence ends with an undignified squeal as Korra gives one final lurch, joining their bodies together.

“Okay! I’m in,” she says, triumphant. But it seems Mako already knew. His eyes are closed, but his teeth are bared and his knees are shaking, knocking against her sides. He’s no longer complaining about the pain and is at least straining to tolerate it. “I’ll give you time to adjust. You’re doing great. _So_ hot.” She pats his knee even though that probably doesn’t help.

Taking a break every five minutes and waiting around constantly for him to get used to the length is not something Korra thought she’d be doing several times that night, and yet they’re on pause again and she remains still while looking for signs of Mako visibly relaxing. Her thighs are aching and her back hurts from being hunched over for so long, but it’ll definitely be worth it. After all, the least she can do for the boy who’s making her dream come true is _not_ make this the most painful experience of his life.

When Mako’s breath evens out at last, and the rise and fall of his chest become steady, she takes that as a sign to continue. She slowly pulls back, withdrawing only a bit of the metal before pushing in once more until it’s completely in. She repeats the action a couple of times, the awkwardly shallow thrusting seeming more like a rehearsal than actual sex. Even Mako seems to notice.

“What are you doing,” he says, rigid as a board.

“Trying to find that spot again. I know it drives you crazy.”

“Korra…” He’s getting fidgety once she starts exerting more power into her thrusts, pulling out half-way before sinking into him. Mako bites his lip while she makes no effort to suppress her panting. Her lips are parted as she watches him, determinedly gauging his face for a reaction. “W-wait,” he murmurs, and Korra immediately freezes. “I… Just not too hard.”

She nods and decides to slow down, moving back as gradually as she can until only the tip is left in. His walls have relaxed around the metal by a fraction and she figures that now’s the perfect time to repeat what she did with her fingers. So she transfers her hands to Mako’s hips, holding tight and saying nothing under his curious gaze. Pushing off from her haunches, she strokes the metal, curving it for easier access. Then she slides in fast, burying herself to the hilt.

The action sends a ripple up Mako’s body, ending with a yell tearing from his throat. But this is not like earlier, and the whimpers that come after that definitely aren’t due to pain anymore. Korra reels back then lurches again with more force, hitting Mako in that one spot that makes him jerk and let out a sob that sounds suspiciously like her name. They eye each other; she meets his astonished gaping with an unwavering stare. 

She goes in even harder, putting more clout into each thrust. Mako falling apart from a few tweaks of his body makes for a captivating image. They’ve barely begun and he’s already been overcome with passion. Inward, she’s drinking in every movement, from his heaving shoulders to his golden pupils that are now blown wide. Trickles of sweat pool down his stomach every time she enters him, with an enthusiasm that pushes his body upward on the bedspread. Any further and he might end up cracking his skull on the headboard.

“You like that?” Her movements are growing rougher with every thrust. Her head is buzzing from the powerful sensations being transmited through the metal. Mako’s body is welcoming every ounce of it now, closing in around the base every time she’s inside. Throughout it all, her own juices continue to trickle out, soaking the bedspread under her.

“Yes,” he finally replies, tone thick with wanting. “Yesyesyes…” _Now we’re talking._

“Good.” She fucks him with such vigor that his knees squeeze painfully against her sides in retaliation. He’s gripping the sheets so tightly, grappling for any hold he can have. His knuckles have gone white. Every shudder, every corresponding spasm of his is due to her. Now she knows he’s given over control completely – that much is definite -- _he’s let me take him along with lock and key_. No wonder she’s never seen this side of Mako before. Maybe no one else has, not even the boy himself. 

“Korra, it’s so—“ His voice comes out ragged as he tries in vain to control the scattering pitch.

“Hmm?” With a burst of intensity, she doubles her efforts, and whatever Mako was going to say next dissolves into wordless keening that’s music to her ears.

An interesting thought pops up in her brain and she puts it to use immediately, releasing him and slipping out. Mako appears too winded to question the sudden loss of contact, but she’s giving him no chance to recover. Only when she grabs his leg and hitches it over her shoulder does he make some sort of protesting noise. The action forces him on his side and he braces himself with an elbow, confusion replacing the blissfully fucked out expression he had on just a second ago.

_But I prefer ‘blisfully fucked out’ over ‘adorably confused’_ , she thinks, and breaches his opening again.

“ _Korra!_ ” Waves of pleasure shoot through them both, though Korra prefers to whisper his name back. She grips his ass, palming the cheek firmly while adjusting her position. _It’s about time I got to do that._ The new angle makes it easier to see how stretched out Mako’s hole is as it continues accepting the rod. She relishes the feeling of tightness wrapping around her immediately when the metal’s as far in as it can get. _Spirits rejoice._ Just as she prayed, he’s perfect at taking her (makeshift) cock. Exactly how she imagined. 

Eager to bend him in every way possible, her hungry gaze drifts downward, admiring the expanse of pale skin. She immediately notices Mako reaching for his erect cock, transparent fluid is leaking from its tip. Apparently, he’s getting as wet as she is, but now’s not the time for that, so she slaps his hand away and chuckles at the glare she receives.

“ _Not. Yet._ ” She insists, emphasizing her point with two well-timed thrusts. “Your ass is the main star tonight.” Mako rolls his eyes and looks like he wants to argue, but it’s too easy to bring his attention back to the device drilling its way into him. She continues to do so, and with the right aim, and he’s rendered silent again, except for the drawn out groan that she assumes is a noise of compliance.

The ache in her limbs is becoming too persistent to bear so she pulls out and wipes sweat from her brow. _One hell out of a workout this is. Can’t I do this instead of airbending training? At least it’s something I can actually be good at…_ She smiles wryly at herself as she releases Mako, reverting to a sitting position against the wall. Her bare legs are stretched out in front of her and she jiggles them, laughing at the tingling sensation stemming from her twinging muscles.

Mako’s still on his side looking utterly wrecked. She has a nice eyeful of his back while he shifts, still groaning. “I’m bushed,” she says, stretching her arms. “It’s tiring doing all the work. Hey,” she nudges his still form with her foot. “Your turn to take over.”

Mako rolls over to face her, casting a bleary look. He’s the one who looks exhausted, which, in her opinion, isn’t fair. All he needed to do was twist around, it’s not like she broke his hip or anything. “Um… How?”

“Get on my lap, silly.” She beckons to said body part. Mako’s eyes look really round all of a sudden. “Ride me,” she adds with a smirk, adjusting the metal so that the tip points upward. “Come on. It’ll be great.”

Whatever protests she expected from the firebender turn out to be non-existent. Apparently, she’s fucked the fight right out of him, or the sex is just _that_ good and he’s accepted it at last. Either way, without argument, Mako hauls himself upright. Korra feels a bit bad that he’s wincing a lot just doing so.

“How do I do this,” he mumbles, wobbling a bit on his haunches like it’s taking every ounce of effort to not flop over. He judges the metal with a hesitant glance and Korra scoffs because for him to still be afraid of it is ridiculous. But she merely bites her lip and grips the base to hold it steady.

“Just… You know, sit on it.”

“…Okay.” 

She pushes aside the awkwardness of their exchange to welcome him as he comes closer. It’s a bit difficult with their (annoying) height difference, so she slides further down the wall as he clambers over her, coming to a kneel right over the device. He’s so tall that the shadow cast over her obscures almost everything else, though she quickly finds the highlight of their position: that she’s practically eyelevel with his abs. She settles a hand on his hips to guide him and leans her head back. Questioning eyes are peering down at her. He’s bracing his hands against the wall for support, and waits expectantly for her go signal.

“You can go slow,” she says quietly. Mako nods at that and slowly lowers himself onto her. She holds him steady, feeling his weight descend onto the tip. To quell the wobbling of the metal, she keeps her other fist wrapped around it in a deathgrip, steering it into him.

When the tip enters him, it’s Korra who cries out his name, nails scrabbling at the edges of his hipbones. Ironically, she’s the one feeling _full_ , pleasure exploding from her own neglected slit. Mako’s mouth remains a firm line as he works on taking more of the metal in, though the flush spreading across his face says it all. A sharp exhale of air tickles the top of her head as he pauses.

“Perfect. Oh, _Mako_ \--“ she releases the base to clutch at his waist and urge him downward. “Keep going…” Her pleas are growing more frantic as the tingling in her body becomes more widespread, plunging through her like an electric current.

Mako takes his time during his descent, stretching himself out at a slow, controlled pace. There are sharp hitches in his breath as he sinks further and those send her hair billowing around her face. “ _So good_ ,” she rasps, hands clamped around him tightly in an effort to guide him. That’s going to leave bruises for sure, which isn’t bad, because he has too many from the arena but not enough from the bedroom.

The smallest of whimpers tells her it’s almost all the way in. He stops with less than half an inch to go, reluctant to go further, so Korra pushes him down the rest of the way until his legs brush against the tops of her thighs. That’s when she finds out he’s trembling, still trying to keep the brunt of his weight from pressing against her, so she just sighs and tugs him some more. They both cry out when he seats himself fully on her lap.

“You okay?” she asks, barely breathing.

“Getting there,” comes his equally hoarse reply. “S’painful…” A worried glance flashes across her face, and he quickly adds, “But in a good way.” And to show it, rocks back and forth. Korra’s thighs clench together.

“Fuck! Mako—“ No longer needing supervision, he starts acting on his own accord. With one powerful stroke, he lifts himself off the metal. She’s mesmerized by the slow drag of silver as it is exposed inch by inch, Mako sliding off the column before pressing down again, letting it disappear inside him. They both shudder and he has to stop momentarily, pillowing his head in his arms against the wall, before trying again.

She helps lift him by the hips, ignoring the strain in her arms. She’s close enough to his chest to feel the deep rumbling that accompanies his groans, and even though his movements are still sluggish, she can’t exactly blame him. Her own ribcage feels like it’s containing a constantly rebounding spark. 

As he begins to pick up a rhythm, Korra’s sighs grow more frequent. Mako’s quickly learned how to hit the spot inside himself because he’s pumping faster, driving relentlessly against her lap every time he fucks himself on the device. This feels more raw, each thrust leaving her dizzy. Probably because that quarter of her brain that’s been anxious all this time has finally calmed down. _I’m no longer making a fool out of myself, no one’s in pain… Mako’s enjoying it, and actually doing it all on his own, who’d have thought?_

Without warning, he growls and slams down on her, making her squeal. Her mouth opens wide in surprise but before she can cry out his name, he pulls her into a searing kiss, rough and spontaneous with teeth scraping lips and tongues passing pleased noises back and forth. From the sides of her face, Mako’s hands slide down to her chest. His thumbs rub at her nipples, sending shockwaves of pleasure that leave her slack-jawed and boneless.

“Not fair,” she whines, licking at his mouth. “You’re playing dirty.”

He merely raises an eyebrow while in the process of nuzzling her cheek. “So have you, since the start.” His palms are still teasing her breasts, and he’s rocking against her lap _again_. The combined sensitivity from that coupled with the metal buried in him is too much.

“I can’t take it anymore!” She gasps, pulling away from his lips. Then she’s pushing him off her, maneuvering his body. 

“Turn over,” she barks, leaning over and pressing down on his back. “On your hands and knees, now.”

Mako, to her credit, doesn’t complain. If anything, she swears they’ve both gone delusional. He’s now insane and she’s now seeing things, because she’s pretty sure he winks at her, and in a seductive tone, says “Yes, Ma’am,” before turning over immediately and settling on all fours.

All she can see is red. Without a care that she’s dripping from her lower regions and ruining her own bedspread in the process, she edges toward him, roughly palming her favorite (thoroughly abused) part of his body. Eager to take the reins back, she slams the metal cock into him without warning.

The scream she gets in return is completely worth it.

“Mako, you’re an infuriating—“ She starts fucking him in earnest, hands fastened to his waist. It’s already decorated with small purple splotches, but neither of them mind. In fact, she can feel his slight movements as he begins pushing back against her. They’re developing a rhythm together. “Hot, sexy _tease_ \--“

“That the best you can do, Avatar?” he says, voice scratchy and tone mocking. She can practically see his smirk – and that may be the only bad thing about this position, that she can’t see his face. Because she wants to watch his eyes get glassy as she pounds into him, wants to witness him adorably biting his lip, almost enough for it to bleed, all to hold back his cries. 

“You’ll pay for that one,” she says darkly. To respond to his challenge she drives into him almost viciously, taking advantage of the easy angle and the almost natural way the metal slides into him without resistance. Her thrusts keep coming with more intensity, and in turn his corresponding moans are rising in pitch. 

_Mine mine mine all mine…_ The crooked grin is back and she does nothing to hide it – nothing he can see anyway -- as her drilling quickly takes on a possessive streak. Mako, beneath her, seems to have finally accepted his fate, head bowed and back arching. He’s no longer bothering to conceal the desperate noises pouring out of him. If his ass pushing back against her crotch is any indication, he wants even _more_ despite the noticeable trembling in his arms.

“ _Korraaaaa,_ ” he sighs out breathlessly, finally reaching his limit. She hasn’t shown signs of stopping yet his arms give way and he’s sinking, face-first into a pillow. Korra’s left supporting him from the waist down.

“Get up!” She orders with a sharp nudge against his backside. But the rest of him remains limp. His voice is muffled by the cotton. 

“But I’m _exhausted._ ” She shakes her head.

“We’re not done. Get up.” Mako half-heartedly clambers onto his elbows, unwilling to rise any further. Her brows furrow as she takes in his crouching pose. _Fine. If he wants to be a total pillowbiter…_

Picking up where she left off, she fucks into him again. He whines and bucks against her, unaware that she’s focusing her metalbending on changing the shape of the cock while it’s still in him. _A few ridges, nothing more._

“Oh—oh, what the _fuck_ —“ Mako shouts, head snapping back in response to the sudden change in feeling. Korra says nothing. She keeps going, and decides it’s finally time to show him some mercy. So she reaches around and grabs his leaking cock.

“That,” he yelps as her fingers close around it and she starts pumping, matching the rhythm of her thrusts. “Keep doing that!” She does as she’s told, not minding that she’s following orders for once. She concentrates on deepening her thrusts and further teasing his cock, feeling the pressure building within.

“ _Yes!_ ” He cries out. She’s barely had time to give his cock the attention it deserves but it happens too fast. He’s already coming, ropes of white fluid spurting from the tip and drenching her hand. The rest splatters on her already filthy sheets. _Pema’s definitely not washing this afterward. Maybe I should just burn them._

They’re still shifting, her movements growing more languid as he rides out his orgasm. “You are so perfect, I love you so much,” she murmurs, patting his back. She slowly pulls out of his hole, wondering what else to do now that she’s congratulated him on a job well done.

The rest happens in a post-coital haze. Mako collapses on the bed and groaning as she unfastens the metal and tosses it aside. The fireballs she conjured drift lower as she crawls to his side. They draw each other close, him lazily throwing an arm over her while she wraps her leg around his. Their bodies slide against each other. Mako’s cheesiness must’ve gotten to her because she actually finds herself thinking, _our bodies fit together perfectly_. Nevermind the sweat and fluids and aching muscles. _This whole night has been perfect._

Korra’s face is centimeters away from his and she watches as his eyelids flutter and close. In seconds, he’s asleep. She can’t blame him, not after the endeavor she put him through. _No pillow talk then,_ she thinks with a wry smile, and strokes his hair.

Drowsiness washes over her as she finishes her final task, her hand reaching downward and fingers pushing into him one last time. A hum of satisfaction reverberates through her. He’s still loose and slippery from the lubrication. Hopefully his body will remain in its pliant state. _Maybe later, we can--_

The thought remains unfinished as she drifts off to sleep.

A while later, Korra’s awoken by a sudden heat near her pelvis. She’s confused – she spent the night curbing her lust, so why again now? was the sex not enough? _Am I just instatiable?_ She pushes herself to a sitting position, and a familiar scent pervades her nostrils. _Is something burning?_ She coughs. And her eyes widen.

“Crap, forgot about the fireballs— SHIT!”

\---

 

“First off, I’d like to thank you two for wasting everyone’s time. It’s the middle of the night. We all had to clock back in after we heard about a fire that started on Air Temple Island under suspicious circumstances. Had to have forensics sweep the place and we found some interesting stuff.”

Beifong pulls out a familiar device, blackened and warped beyond all recognition. It’s barely clung onto its former rod shape, looking more like a rectangular bar now than anything.

“Care to explain? Like how two firebenders could not put out a simple house fire, perhaps? Or why this was found in the premises?” Her throat feels dry. Korra has no idea what to do. Mako’s already shrinking into the chair beside her. They both look like complete messes, hair tousled and sporting garments that are barely on – Mako’s jacket is half-buttoned and barely covering his underwear. She doesn’t have a bra on, and is missing a boot. At least the police were kind enough to give them blankets.

_How am I supposed to explain that I, the Avatar, forgot all about the fireballs I conjured? That they drifted to the bed when we fell asleep, and ignited the oil-soaked bedspread? That Mako and I panicked and spent too much time pulling our clothes on instead of putting out the fire while it was still manageable? That I almost killed Mako after having sex with him, because he could barely move his legs during our attempts to escape?_

Beifong is nowhere near kind. She’s not stupid either, Korra’ll give her that – she _knows_ exactly what went down between them, and at least she’s not asking about that part. But Korra kind of wishes she would, because it would be a less torturous alternative compared to the other option: that Beifong would further question the existence of her device. 

“Um – listen, Chief. I—“ Beifong quickly rounds on her.

“Avatar Korra, you have been a thorn in my side ever since you first arrived at the docks. Are you going to talk or do I have to read you your Beifong rights _again_? You have the right to remain silent. Any stupid, untrue thing you say or do can and will—“

“—will result in filling my dirty, filthy liar mouth with fistfuls of soil and air bison dung. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Maybe you did learn something from that airhead Tenzin after all.” She folds her arms across her chest, still glaring at them. Well, mostly Korra. She tries in vain to glare back, too anxious to actually contort her face properly.

“Actually, I memorized it after being here so many times with you.”

Beifong holds up the remains of the metal again. “We found this at the crime scene. It was partially melted by the fire, but it’s obviously meant to be long and heavy and might’ve been meant to be used as a weapon. We might be looking at an attempted murder if the culprit is not identified tonight.”

“Chief Beifong,” she mutters, averting her gaze. “I really don’t think—“

“Just get on with it. I want the full story or someone is going to jail. Now.”

They’re silent. Mako turns to look at her, sporting a horrified look on his face that she matches with her own.

They both jump the moment Beifong slams her fist on the table. “NOW!”

Korra realizes that night that she has one big weakness… That when she gets going, she can’t stop. And even though she’s well aware that she’s about to scar everyone in the room for life… 

She starts.

“It all started in probending practice where Bolin made Mako take his clothes off and he was covered in cricketrats and I thought ‘spirits that’s hot’ so I was really turned on and bought a statue of Avatar Aang from the market and turned it into a metal dick and Bolin was like ‘dude’ and I was all ‘I know’ but I really really _really_ wanted to use it on Mako so I jumped him a few times and snuck into his apartment to watch him shower so he asked me on a date and it was really sweet and romantic then we went to my place to fuck and I used Avatar Aang to fuck Mako and it felt really good and was really hot and our sex was so crazy we set fire to the bed because I suppose it was covered with oil for lube and I guess my dick melted.”

Beifong drops the device. 

The clang resonates around the room for a good five seconds.

Everyone is silent.

“…Do you have anything to add?” She turns to Mako and asks, oddly calmer than Korra’s ever seen. Except her eye is twitching and the vein on her forehead is pulsing.

“It’s true…” He shrugs. Then adds, in a small voice. “Feels really sore.” His voice drops to a whisper. “But good?”

Beifong eyes him with a single arched brow. She releases an exasperated sigh, pressing her face into her hand and massaging her temples. Then she motions at the door violently.

“Get out. Both of you. I never want to see those depraved, nauseating grimaces of yours ever again. We’re going to forget this ever happened.”

Korra was, honestly, expecting jailtime. And so was Mako, apparently. They’re both too shocked to move. 

“OUT!” So they hurriedly stand up, gather their belongings and head for the door. As Korra closes it, she hears Beifong muttering to herself. “Fucking teenagers…”

### INTROMISSION: THE LEGEND OF LIN

“Hello? Who is this calling at… Three in the morning?”

“Tenzin, snap out of that muzzy stupor of yours. You’ll never guess what I caught the Avatar doing.”

“Lin, for one, I really don’t want to know, and two, I probably do already know. I caught her… Practicing.”

“Brought back fond memories, didn’t it?”

“W-what! No!”

“C’mon. You even saw her using nickel. Nickel, of all things! She’s a complete scrub at this, clearly. Any pro would’ve known that the best metal to use is—“

“Spirits, this conversation is not happening. This conversation is NOT happening.”

“Page one-oh-one, remember? Good times. Why don’t you lend her the book? I’m sure your Uncle Sokka would be proud—“

“Oh, for Father’s sake—I DON’T HAVE IT, LIN. STOP CALLING ME.”

“The space behind the bookshelf in your living room begs to differ. Unless Pema’s been bringing it to the bedroom—“

“This conversation is OVER! If you have any respect for what we had, Lin, you would not mention that text ever again. I will burn it myself if I have to.”

“As if you would burn the only remaining copy.”

Silence.

“The firebender kid seemed a lot more agreeable than someone I know.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“He could barely walk and yet he was still looking pretty spry--”

“Lin. Don’t.”

“Like a certain someone I know…”

“ _Good night!_ ”

### PART VII: EPILOGUE – OF EPIC PROPORTIONS

They quietly stroll down the steps of the police station together. The passing breeze reminds Korra all the more of their partially unclothed state. She hugs her arms, noting Mako’s concerned glance. Smiling in return, she just shrugs, knowing that in any other situation, he’d probably be gentlemanly enough to offer her his jacket. In this case, though, it’s the only thing preventing him from being slapped with a public nudity charge.

“So, like you were saying earlier…” Mako speaks, a hand carding through his unkempt hair. He’s back to being his awkward self. She gives him a questioning glance. It’s becoming more and more apparent to her how _weird_ sex and relationships actually are. They’re back to dancing around each other like flustered newlyweds when just half an hour ago, they’d been moaning each other’s names in ecstasy. In fact, aside from the missing clothing and the pronounced stiffness of Mako’s walk, it’s like their date is starting all over again.

“Huh?” It’s all Korra can say, not making much sense of his words. Mako smiles at her.

“You love me, huh?” He murmurs.

She pauses for a moment, then the memories come flooding back. It’s her turn to blush. She’d said it during the heat of the moment. _But it’s not like it wasn’t true…_ “…Yeah.”

“I’ve always loved you.”

“And I’ve always…” She stops herself, feeling guilty. Now that part isn’t exactly true. And Mako knows.

“Wanted me,” he finishes, matter-of-factly.

She struggles to meet his gaze, her features having turned melancholy. “Yeah, so…” 

“And now you love me.” And he adds, dryly. “Because I finally put out.”

She snorts. “ _No_. But I never said I was that quick of a learner. If I did, I’d be a fully-realized Avatar right now. I think I realized it when we were talking at the restaurant.”

Mako does the unexpected and chuckles. “Nice save,” he teases.

She stops him in his tracks and points a finger at his chest. “Hey, don’t get cocky. I rocked your _world._ ” Without missing a beat, Mako turns to face her, pulling her close by the forearms. There’s a glint in his eyes, familiar enough to make her heart race. 

His voice is low and rough when he whispers in her ear. “Then how ‘bout you let me rock yours? We still have…”

Her hands fly to her mouth in mock horror. “My, my, Mako. Are you suggesting we have sex _twice_ on the first date? What would the elders think?” Matching smirks decorate their faces as they gaze at each other. The tension between them thickens, the air suddenly humid. Just looking at him is utterly distracting; numerous buttons are still left open on Mako’s jacket, doing a miserable job concealing his chest.

“We’ve already scarred all the elders we know. And I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying…” His lips are practically caressing her ear. Excitement floods through her veins, her body going rigid and her eyes widening. _Is he saying…?_ “I did pay Bolin to stay out of the apartment for one night as a contingency plan, so…”

“I fucking _love_ you.” She kisses him aggressively, nipping at his reddened lips. _I love fucking you._ “I fucking love you in every way possible.”

She almost wants him to talk dirtier. To say something like _‘So it’s time to fuck each other in every loving way possible._ Or _’Then do me the honor of doing me honorably.’_

But Mako’s not like Korra. He doesn’t drop innuendos and do overly-aggressive come-ons like she does. And maybe a part of her wants to see him say things like that, but in truth, she’s perfectly happy that he’s the one who’s always keeping it together. 

That way, it’s so much more fun picking him apart. They both know it.

He settles with: “Let’s go,” and that’s all she really needs, allowing him to tug her in the direction of the arena. Mako doesn’t require corny innuendo or suggestive eyebrow gestures or greasy smiles to win her over. The words have their desired effect: her body is heating up like a furnace, roaring for a second go.

Her body is **fucking _ready._**


End file.
